A Deathly Kiss
by SilverBoots
Summary: Two boys, both from dark pasts, found a future together built on the promise that one day the two would conquer the magical world side by side. They didn't know that promise would tear them apart, only to bring them back together in the most unlikely situation. And now, the Dark Lord and his Consort will do whatever it takes to get to their goal. (SLASH,Reincarnation)
1. Chapter 1

**A Deathly Kiss**

 **Chapter 1 -** The Transfer

The cupboard was almost pitch black, with only enough light to see the apprehension on the girls face. He closed the door slowly and twisted the old, wrought iron key in the door so it locked with a quick. With a swish of his wand, 2 silvery orbs floated above them and his eyes focused in on his surroundings.

It was a standard maintenance cupboard, the walls were made of the same light stone and marble as the rest of the building but it was more dusty and chipped than usual. The shelves lining the walls were filled with un-labled glass bottles of various cleaning products and there were a few rags heaped up to his left but in this moment none of that mattered.

The girl in front of him was pretty, not as beautiful as some of the girls he'd had before as she hadn't yet grown into herself but she was certainly cute enough. She had light blond hair and dark blue eyes that remind him of the roof tiles he'd seen dotted around the muggle cities. Her skin was tanned as was typical of most of the students but they were tinted with a light blush.

He leant back against the wall and crossed his arms, tilting his head to the left to survey his prey. "Don't pretend you haven't been watching me for the last few weeks."

She shook her head vehemently, her mouth bolted shut. He could see her throat move as she gulped. He took a step forward and she backed to the wall so she was pressed tightly against it. He smirked, "I'm not gonna hurt you".

Her body relaxed and some of the tension left her muscles as she stood up straight. With all of the confidence she could muster she stepped forward until there was very little space between them. "You're going to have to let me out".

She was glaring at him now and it was less menacing and more cute in his opinion. He smiled again and bought a hand to curl its way into her blond ringlets where it took hold and showed no sign of releasing anytime soon. "Now, you see, there's an exit fee and you can't get out without paying." Her eyes were already wide and her body was starting to tremble, "What is it?" she asked quietly but it was clear that she already knew exactly what he wanted.

Within a second, his lips were on hers. Fierce and demanding as he backed her against the wall of the cupboard, she moaned reluctantly but didn't respond. Even as his tongue entered her mouth and entwined alongside hers, even as his hand strayed down to the buttons of her crisp white shirt. He released her lips as his hands expertly began to unbutton her, his eyes stayed focused on her and he smirked. "Don't say you didn't want this". She whimpered again when he kissed her and this time responded gently, seemingly coming to the realisation that she wasn't getting out of this situation anytime soon.

"Jump," he whispered in her ear and so she did. He lifted her legs around his waist and made sure she was full against the wall when he let go of her with both hands, one to lift up her skirt and the other to unfasten his own trousers.

He entered her not long after, breaking through her hymen with one piercing thrust. He carried on thrusting at a steady pace, her moans and screams like music to his ears and when they both finish she remained wrapped around his waist as she collapsed in exhaustion onto his chest. He pulled back hair silky smooth hair and traced one of his long fingers down her neck right to her pulse point and bought his lips down onto it, kissing and sucking lightly. His wand was in his hand quickly and silently and he used it to cut a long gash right down her vein and waited as, instead of blood, a clear blue vapour rose from inside her. He breathed it in steadily, lavishing in the way her magic, her very essence, hummed throughout his lungs and veins.

He sucked on the cut until his thirst was satiated and no more of the vapour was being expelled from he body. Then, when he was done, he unwound her legs and let them drop to the floor softly along with her body. A quick cleansing charm and a small compulsion spell were applied before he felt satisfied that he could leave. His clothes were rearranged into the same pristine uniform that it was merely a quarter of an hour ago. Then he opened the door and left the girl unconscious on the floor.

As he walked past the fellow students in the corridor he smiled happily at them and they waved back cheerfully. It was just a normal day.

* * *

Heleus looked up from his salad as he felt the bench shift and somebody sit down beside him. His cousin Deon was looking at him with a wholly unimpressed look on his face. "Where have you been all morning?" Heleus' eyes strayed across the hall where the blond girl, Aleka, was sitting with her friends, a detached look on her face and tears tracking their way silently down her cheeks.

"What I do is none of your concern". The other boy scoffed and flicked his jet black hair out of his eyes, "I think it has absolutely everything to with me." A look of realisation dawned on his face and he leaned in conspiratorially with quick glances around him, "You weren't with Makis were you? Because he was bragging all about you last week...he's been telling everyone you did it in the changing room showers".

"I haven't had sex with Makis", he growled lowly.

"But you've had sex with someone", his cousin announced with an air of finality in his voice. "You shouldn't do that, you know what your father says about such things".

He scoffed, "You act like you're a saintly virgin Deon when I know for a fact that you're not".

"At least I'm not some kind of man-whore", he accused.

Heleus wasn't going to deny that fact, not at all. He had a reputation at Olympus Academy that dated back to the start of his fourth year at the tender age of 14. Of course, it had started off small with frantic groping behind the duelling stadium but after an encounter with an older boy in his seventh year things had escalated quite quickly and he'd soon found himself addicted to sex and the strange forms of magic associated with it. He wasn't terribly fussy about gender, he'd had sex with both men and women plenty of times. But he wouldn't do it with just anyone, he appreciated beauty and would only ever look for the best.

Things hadn't always been as bad as this, at first it was just harmless fumbling around like the explorations of many other teens. Then his mother had died abruptly, the cause was suspiciously unknown and without her ever-loving presence in the household he'd become extremely withdrawn from his surroundings and constantly looking for some kind of release for his pent up anger. And if some unknowing victim were to unwittingly fall into his grasp didn't make it his fault.

His father had eventually heard through the grapevine about his less than stellar reputation and was far from impressed. Lord Vasilikas was a man with strict pureblood values. Heleus was his only son as there were complications during his birth that led to his wife not being able to have other kids, meaning that if Heleus was disowned or died the Lordship would go to his brothers children. He couldn't allow his son to become a disgrace and there was very little room for error. To learn that his son was sleeping around, not only with people of a lesser status but with men as well! In his opinion it was an outrage. Heleus knew he was treading on very thin ice.

"How's your duelling?"

The boy latched onto the new topic happily, "I came first in the tournament qualifier the other week. If I make it into the top 5 in the whole school I get to compete in the team against the other European teams and maybe even go for the world championship!"

"That sounds great Deon", he turned back to his salad and focused his attention once again on the bland green leaves that constituted his 'diet'.

* * *

"Heir Vasilikas?"

He grimaced slightly at his formal title and looked up to see the regal face of his headmistress looming over him. Despoina Louka was a tall woman with grey almost silver hair, despite only being in her forties, and darkly tanned skin to contrast with. Her eyes were a pale purple and were staring down at him, completely blank and cold as opposed to the polite inquisitiveness that she always seemed to have no matter what the situation.

"Professor Louka, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked politely as he set his leather book mark inside of _'Ancient Gods: Fact or Fiction'_.

"You're going to have to come to my office, something has come up". Her tone begged no room for leniency and he rearranged his uniform before following her off to her office.

The office itself was facing the south and had a large white marble balcony that overlooked the clouds below. The room was decorated with beautiful gold furniture, portraits of old school alumni and various pieces of art gifted to the headmistress. There was a harp in the corner playing itself a calming melody. Sat stiffly on one of the golden chairs at the desk was a man he'd rather not be seeing.

Lord Nikos Vasilikas was the epitome of pureblood. Strong aristocratic features and broad shoulders showed strength and 'good breeding'. He was dressed in a well-tailored forest green over-robe trimmed with gold and his hair fell in elegant waves, just brushing his shoulders and his silver lordship ring was worn proudly on his finger as if stating his superiority to all those around him. The resemblance between him and his son was startling. They both had the same ebony black hair, except Heleus' was tied back in a messy black bun at the back of his head, and the same forest green eyes. They had deep tans from the beach outside their villa in Zakynthos and their bodies were mostly the same build except for he was a bit shorter but he'd grow taller soon with age. He was almost a younger version of his father and the thought was revolting to him.

"Take a seat", said Professor Louka gesturing towards the one beside his father and he perched on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Exactly what am I doing here today?"

Louka looke down slowly and let out a low reluctant sigh, then her eyes rose to meet his and he could see the regret within them. "It has been decided, between me and Lord Vasilikas, that you will be ending you education at Olympus Academy."

His brow furrowed for a second and he turned to sneer at his father, "Why exactly has that been decided?"

His father turned towards him, nose flaring ever so slightly in a sign of disgust, "At the age of 18 you will legally be allowed to join my at the _anótato dikastírio tis mageías_ in order to assist in your Lordship training. Before this time I wish to remove some of your more..unsavoury characteristics and prepare you for the world of politics you for the world of politics you are about to enter. It has come to my attention that some of your fellow pupils may be enabling said attributes and so I have arranged for your transfer immediately."

The rage was boiling beneath his skin and his hands were clenched tightly, his white knuckle fists hidden beneath the table. "What kind of hellhole are you sending me to then?"

His father smiled smugly, knowing that his son would offer no resistance against him. "I have a cousin in Britain. I believe his father is the current Lord of the Noble and Ancient house of Black. Perfect candidates to help you in your training. They have a daughter your age and a son only a few years younger than you which is enough to keep you company. It'll also give you a chance to study more of European Law. Perhaps someday you could follow in my footsteps and gain a place on the ICW. I have already sent a letter to one Armando Dippet, headmaster of Hogwarts, and he has agreed to allow you take your NEWTS at his school as long as you can take your OWLS at the ministry over the summer and agree to meet with him and the Deputy for a short interview. Everything has already been organised in advance and you only need to pack you things and be ready to leave."

He nodded once sharply, "Could you leave me a minute with the Headmistress? I wish to discuss some of the discrepancies between the curriculums at Olympus and Hogwarts".

His father smiled, more like grimaced, politely at him and left to stand outside the room.

He turned quickly to Louka. "Is there anything I can do?" The frowned sadly, "Legally you have no standing. Your father has every right to decide your education, we could always ask the school board whether they could stop the process bit most of them being Lords themselves would agree with his reasoning. There is very little you can do except try to convince him yourself."

The pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up to her with hopeful eyes, "How much hold does he have legally over me once I turn 18?"

"As long as you retain Heir status he still has last say over most major decisions. If you were to renounce your name and title, take your mothers surname perhaps, he would have no control over you. But I would only advise such measures if you were in a very desperate situation."

He hummed noncommittally at her.

"In terms of the Hogwarts curriculum I would be willing to maintain correspondence with you, to help teach you some of the things that their staff are unable to. Of course I can't quite teach you Archery and Swordsmanship through letters but I'm sure I could assist you with your other subjects. You are one of my best students after all".

"It would be much appreciated, thank you".

She smiled tightly, "You're more than welcome".

* * *

He was floo'd back to the Villa not long after where he was advised to collect all of the things he wished to take with him as the chances were that he wouldn't be coming back for the next two years. Heleus took everything, knowing that if he had his way he wouldn't be returning at all.

The next time they travelled it was by international portkey, one of Heleus' least favourite methods of transport, that took them into a London suburb somewhere opposite a small park. His father led him up the steps of an old gloomy looking mansion in the center of the street and knocked promptly on the door. They were greeted by a small wrinkly looking creature with large eyeballs and wearing what looking remarkably similar to an old pillow case. It's eyes focused in straight away on the rings on his fathers finger and the door was opened wide. "Kreacher will get Master. Master will be pleased to see guests".

The entrance hall they were in was just as dark as the outside. Regal, of course, with their polished silver decor and candlesticks lining the walls. On the landing were various taxidermy heads that all looked similar to the odd animal that had greeted them at the front door. After a few moments the animal returned and they were lead into a formal seating room with a few dark purple leather sofas all situated around a fireplace, covering the walls was a large faded tapestry with hundreds of faces upon it, some of which had been burnt black. One face was highlighted in gold and read _Lord Sirius Black_ obviously the current head of house.

There were two people seated primly on the sofa, both of them looked to be nearing their fifties with their lightly creased skin. The man in particular was starting to go grey around his roots whilst the woman still had perfect honey blond hair that was tied up elegantly with a solid silver flower clip in it. They were wearing robes of matching the house colours of plum and silver with the family crest on them.

The nodded his head in recognition, "Lord Vasilikas".

"Mr Black, Mrs Black ", his father returned and the woman smiled warmly. The kind of smile that radiated kindness even in her eyes and showed the complete opposite of a typical pureblood.

The woman turned her gaze towards him and held out her hand, "You must be Heir Heleus". He lifted her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles, as was custom, then turned to her husband and shook his hand politely. "You must meet my children, my daughter in particular has been very excited to meet you. Kreacher?" She turned to the nasty wrinkled thing that had just appeared out of thin air before her after disposing of his luggage. "If you wouldn't mind fetching the children for me, tell them we have a guest".

The thing popped away again. "We've prepared tea if you wouldn't mind joining us", she gestured to the silver teaset steaming on the table. There was a plate full of delicate French cakes on the side in different shades of lilac.

His father took a seat in the armchair by the fire whilst he sat on one of the sofas as far away from the man as possible. 2 teens entered the room. The first was a girl his age with high cheekbones, honey blond hair and silvery grey eyes. She was dressed in a lacy back floaty lilac dress that went down to just below her knees and she was wearing an identical hair piece to her mother. The boy was a few years younger than him and had slightly curly black hair down to his chin and the same silvery eyes. He was wearing a black over robe and a lilac tie and was staring at him with a completely disinterested look on his face.

"This is my daughter Lucretia", he kissed her hand and she smiled in amusement. "Pleasure", she spoke softly. "And my son, the family heir, Orion." They shook hands briefly but were away from each-other almost as quickly as possible.

Tea was a polite affair and Mrs Black took extra care to try and sit Lucretia next to him. They all ate their cakes delicately and spent their time talking about inane topics whilst Mr Black and his father 'caught up'. Their conversation was more business talk than the familial approach one would expect between two cousins, but then again they barely saw each-other and he was only there to ditch his delinquent child in their care.

"Perhaps Lucretia could show Heir Heleus around the house, show him his rooms?" Mrs Black suggested politely after a few minutes of silence.

The girl stood up beside him, "Of course Mother. Follow me please".

As soon as they had left the room and the large black doors closed behind them the girls posture collapsed and she yanked the hair piece out so that her golden locks tumbled in a knotted mess down on her shoulders. "With the way Mother was looking at us, you'd think she'd want us to marry".

He grimaced slightly, even as he studied her pretty features. "You seem nice but I think second cousins would be cutting it a bit close, even with our families."

She snorted in an unladylike manner, "You'd think wouldn't you? Grandfather signed a marriage contract between Orion and our second cousin Walburga. We share the same last name for merlin's sake so it's not even like they can cover up just how stupidly incestuous they're being. But of course, with Orion being the Heir they had to rush to get him a _respectable_ wife to secure the bloodline and all that. It ridiculous".

"Tell me about it", he leant against the wall beside her. "You have no idea how happy I am that my Grandfather decided to marry someone outside of the country. You'd think that it'd be better in Europe, more pureblood families so there's more choices of brides but that's hardly the case. They've got social circles and whatnot and people don't really like to marry outside of them, it'd be similar to marrying below your status. After a while everybody is related to each-other and they just stop caring anymore".

She stood back up again and started walking towards the staircase, she gestured upwards, "Come on then".

They went to her room first, it was mostly the same decorations as the rest of the house. There was a big four poster bed with purple sheets o the back wall next to the window and the wall by her desk had lots of hand drawn pictures and moving black and white photos. There was a mannequin in the corner with a sheet of flowery blue silk over it that was currently stitching itself together with white thread. He raised an eyebrow at it and the girl smiled at it, "I designed it myself. It's what I wanted to do when I grow up but Lady Black, my grandmother, says it's it's an unfitting career. She expects me to marry a nice man and pop out 5 children. At least they haven't sold me off in a marriage contract yet, I may be the eldest child but I'm still just a woman so Orion takes priority. My freedom probably won't last much longer."

He picked up one of the photos on the wall that depicted Lucretia sitting under a willow tree with another boy, he had light hair but it was hard to tell what colour as the image was in black and white. He had a large smile on his face and his robes had a lion crest on them instead of the snake crest on Lucretia's. "That's Ignatius. My friend Miranda thinks he's sweet on me but I'm not sure. Besides, I'd never be allowed to court him. The Prewett family is about as close to being blood-traitors as it gets, they're only tolerated because they're of very old blood."

"Blood-traitors?" He asked confused.

"Pure-bloods who associate with muggles, it's supposably a betrayal of our customs. How exactly are we related anyway? I know we're second cousins but you're not on the Black family tapestry..." she trailed off, taking the picture out of her hand and placing it back on the wall in between a picture of her family and one of her and a two other girls.

"Lady Black is a Gamp, her sister is my Grandmother."

A look of realisation came over the girl's face, "My great aunt Merula? It makes sense now, apparently she ran off to Europe to escape a marriage contract with the Goyles. I can't blame her they're a bunch of great ugly brutes. The only reason they didn't disown her is because she found herself a nice husband who sent off a nice cheque in the owl post for her hand in marriage".

Heleus smiled, "From what I heard she always seemed a bit unconventional. She died before I was born but I've seen the wing of the manor she _claimed._ It's probably the most hideously uncoordinated thing I've ever seen but apparently she enjoyed it so each to their own."

"Why exactly are you being sent to us anyway?"

He sighed, knowing that this conversation would be coming soon. "Father pulled me out of the Academy because apparently I had too many indecent relationships".

"You didn't get anyone pregnant did you?" she didn't seem scandalised, merely amused at his antics.

"No but I did have sex with boys".

Lucretia groaned. "Oh no. The gay Heir situation, what a catastrophe!" she stated with fake dramatics.

"I like boys and girls".

"Bisexual", she stated decisively. "Pardon?" he asked, thinking she was blabbering about rubbish.

"Bisexual, it's a muggle term for being attracted to both men and women". At his incredulous stare she just shrugged, "What? My best friend is a blood traitor, you pick up some useless information after a while".

"Bisexual then", he nodded and tested the word on his tongue. "But that doesn't really matter to my father, of course. You can't have children with men, no chance of continuing the line so fo course he thinks it's a disgrace. He thought the ever pure and noble House of Black would be able to sort out my deviancy."

She snorted, "Good luck with that. All the names on the tapestry that have been burned off are people deemed unworthy by the House. That includes gay people, muggle-lovers and the like. Unless you hadn't noticed there are quite a lot of burned off names, so we're not quite perfect after all."

"Nobody is", he shook his head ruefully.

* * *

He spent the next few weeks getting to know some of the Black Family. He hadn't realised it at first, but Grimmauld Place was actually the ancestral home of the Blacks. So he was quite surprise when Lord Black had miraculously appeared the next night from his room and joined him for dinner. After a conversation with Lucretia he'd learnt that the Ancestral traditionally housed the Lord of the house as well as the Heir's family. Seeing as Orion was the Heir, Lucretia and her parents were _graciously_ allowed to live in the manor. All of Lord Black's other children had to acquire and maintain their own manors which could either be sold or passed down to their own children upon death.

Heleus had then explained how it worked differently in Greece and most of Europe. All pureblood sons were gifted the gold to by themselves a manor on their 20th birthday were they were supposed to raise their family, the daughters weren't given one as they were supposed to have at least gotten a marriage contract by that point. There was no designated manor for one family as it changed depending on which Lord came into power. The manor his father lived in had been bought by his grandfather but before that the previous Lord lived on a different side of the country.

He'd learnt different British customs from Lucretia and she'd also shown him pictures of her cousins and other Pureblood Heir's so that he'd know their names in advance and how to address them correctly. He'd been told about Walburga, Orion's intended, who was apparently quite pretty but a natural gossip and turned into a banshee when mad. She was three years older than Orion and not much liked by him. He'd become completely withdrawn since the announcement of the Contract and went from a chatty child to somebody completely withdrawn. There was also Cygnus in their year who was a Quidditch team captain and quite popular in the year. He had also been recently been contracted to marry and seemed quite happy with the outcome.

He and Lucretia had received their Hogwart's letters the day before, Heleus' included an extra note informing him of when his meeting with the Headmaster was and that they would discuss his OWL results at that time. He'd gone to the Ministry and taken his OWLS in Defence, Potions, Runes, Arithmancy, Herbology Transfiguration, Charms and History and believed he had done quite well. Olympus' curriculum was planned out so that they'd take OWL's in their sixth year and NEWT's in seventh so taking them a year earlier was a bit of stress but he thought he'd handled it well.

Today they were in a small Wizarding community in central London called Diagon Alley. He couldn't stop the snickering when he heard the name.

Their first destination was Madam Malkins, a tailors where they sold all of the school uniform. He was lead onto the podium by Lucretia and a short kind looking woman came up to him. "Hogwarts dear?" she asked in a melodic voice.

"Yes I'm transferring". She nodded in understanding and pulled out a long tape measure and started to get to work. He soon learnt that the Hogwarts uniform was very different from his old one. At Olympus they wore white floaty shirts and blouses, almost like a poets shirt but less fancy and frilly that had the schools logo stitched on. The boys wore trousers whilst the girls wore flowy below the knee skirts and they were both in an odd shade of silver. Shoes were usually simple sandals. They didn't have much use for winter uniform as despite the altitude the school's heating was maintained by a magical weather system that kept the school in a constant state of spring or summertime, occasionally they wore dark blue cardigans to complete the uniform. The only other thing that was mandatory was the Athletics clothes for mandatory weekly group exercise but usually the school said you could wear whatever you wished as long as it had the crest stitched on it.

The Hogwarts uniform, however, was all about warmth. They had shirts with ties and long over-robes that reached the floor. Wooly vests and jumpers, gloves and earmuffs and well as different thicker cloaks for winter that Heleus thought he might just drown in. There was also no Athletics clothes as apparently it wasn't required. "We have to do flying lesson during our first year", Lucretia had explained. "But after that it's our decision whether we continue with fitness or not. Most of the pureblood girls go out by the lake at least once a week to do yoga. It was Walburga's idea really, she said nobody would want to marry her if she devolved into a mass of lard."

"I don't like the tie..." he said holding up the plain black material that had just been wrapped around his neck. There was a small crest on it but other than that it was completely plain.

Lucretia rolled her eyes, "That's not the finished uniform silly. It changes once you get sorted into your house".

He stared at her blankly. "Did they not have houses at Olympus?" He shook his head. "How do they decide what classes your in? Or which dorm your in?"

He shrugged, "There are different dorms for the boys and girls in each year and they just rotate names at the start of every September so you're not with the same people every year. First Year classes are just mixed ability but once you get into second year they sort you based on ability so the most skilled people in each subject are in a set on their own. What are the houses?"

The girl sighed. "There are four. Slytherin for the cunning and ambitious. Gryffindor for the brave. Ravenclaw for the wise and Hufflepuff for the loyal and hard-working. But most people just simplify and say Slytherins are evil, Gryffindors are heroes, Ravenclaws are nerdy bookworms and Hufflepuffs are just the ones nobody wants. The House of Black is traditionally Slytherin although Ravenclaw is accepted. Getting sorted into one of the other two is pretty much a one-way road to being disowned."

He frowned, "So they're basically putting eleven year olds into groups that all discriminate against each other."

She nodded with bigger frown on her face. "Yes, and then they wonder why some Slytherins actually end up turning into maniacs. If you're labelled as one thing at a young age, why would you try and be anything different? People would never change their opinion of you, you're condemned at the age of eleven to live a certain kind of life. Those that do escape the cycle just end up worst off."

"Damned if you do damned if you don't", he murmured under his breath.

"Exactly".

Madam Malkin came back from her store cupboard and began to remove the pieces of fabric from him, telling them to come back later to pick up their order. Lucretia then took him to another clothes shop and bought him some traditional British style robes in his families colours, teal and white, along with some casual clothes that she said fit the current style. Then they were on their way home again.

* * *

"Heir Heleus Diocles Vasilikas".

His eye twitched at his name but the rest of his face stayed blank. The man before him was flicking through his files, one from the Ministry and the other that had been sent over by Professor Louka. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Armando Dippet, was a very old man with completely white hair and wrinkles covering most of his face. He was quite thin, almost frail and he was wearing fine robes with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on them.

Dippet flicked through another page and one of his eyebrows raised slightly, "Your OWL results are very good. O's in Defence, Arithmancy, Runes and Potions. E's in Transfiguration, Charms, History and Herbology. Not many people could do that."

"I would've done better if I actually finished my course".

"Why did you leave your last school?" the other Professor in the room asked. His name was Albus Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster and Transfiguration Professor. He was dressed in what seemed to be a muggle suit with greying auburn hair. He had a scottish accent and his voice showed genuine curiosity.

"My Father thought it best if I finished my education somewhere else", he answered. Trying to be as ambiguous as possible.

"Well", interrupted Dippet. "I think everything is in order. There doesn't seem to be a problem, the only question is would you rather be sorted now or during the Opening Feast?"

"Now would be preferable", he said politely.

"Of course". The man stood up and walked to the other side of the office were an old worn hat was sat on a pedestal. There was a gash in the fabric that, as the hat lifted it's head to look at him, seemed to form a mouth. The hat, if it was possible for a hat to do so, studied him intently. "Here we go then", the Professor placed the hat on his head and he shuddered at the thought of all of the nits that could have entered the thing from children past and reminded himself to wash his hair thoroughly.

 **I don't have nits**

A voice, a loud and irritated voice had invaded his mind and he knew at once that it was the hat. A hat that was currently filtering through his innermost thoughts like a filing cabinet. And a hat that could talk...

 **Don't worry young Heir. I couldn't tell anyone your secrets even if I wanted to, you do have quite a few...**

 _Stop_

 **Stop? I'm afraid I can't, this is the only way to sort you after all. My, my, I don't think I've sorted anyone as interesting as you before**

 _Well I do try to be unpredictable_

 **You've done some bad things Heir Vasilikas**

 _Everybody makes mistake, Hat_

 **None quite as bad as you. Aleka? The girl? Don't call what you did to her a mistake, it would only do to dishonour her further**

 _You don't understand what you're talking about_

 **I see your memories young man, I understand far better than even you. There can only be one house for you.** "Slytherin!"

The hat was pulled off his head immediately and the Headmaster smiled down at him. "Well done! I look forward to seeing you at the start of the year."

Dumbledore stepped forward, "I think it's best I see him to the gates".

"Of course Albus" the headmaster said with a placating gesture as he went back to the desk.

He trailed after Dumbledore as he was lead through the corridor and the man slowed down to walk beside him. "So, Slytherin?" the man asked inquisitively.

"The house of ambition sir." he said with a shrug as they went down another step of stairs, barely dodging the trick step. "Ambition to do..." he trailed off and they took a sharp left turn onto a bright corridor lined with laughing portraits.

Heleus shook his head ruefully, "There are many things wrong with this world Professor. Somebody needs to help change them, I believe I have the power to d so."

Dumbledore chuckled again and they finished their walk in a peaceful silence. He met Mrs Black and Lucretia at the gate, ready to apparate him away.

* * *

"Come on. I'll introduce you to everyone".

Lucretia slammed the door open to a compartment full of girls, all of them were dressed in typical pureblood clothes and had the air of superiority about them. One of the girls, who he recognised to be Walburga, seemed to be the center of attention with all the others gathered around her. She looked up from where she was sitting to see them at the door. "Lucretia", she shrieked loudly and his eardrums were hammered with the sound. "You're late".

"Sorry", the girl beside him winced and pushed him in front of her. "This is the cousin I was talking about. Heir Heleus Vasilikas."

"The Greek one?" Walburga leant forward clearly interested.

Lucretia nodded and Walburga sat up very straight and adopted a very smug expression. "I am Walburga Black, future Lady of the House of Black. This is Selinda Yaxley, Miranda Fawley, Druella Rosier and Azalea Parkinson." He nodded at each in turn politely.

"And I am extremely uninterested", drawled a voice from behind him. He turned to see a tall boy who looked quite a lot like Orion standing behind him. His hair was shorter yet still a bit curly at the fringe and his eyes were a clear blue. He was also taller and seemed a bit bulkier but other than that all of his facial features were identical. They could be brothers. "Come with me". The boy grasped him by the hand and yanked him out of the compartment into the corridor, slamming the door behind him.

"Don't mind the girls. Menaces, the lot of them". He was being pulled down the corridor quickly and he had to elbow the boy to get his arm out. "Don't touch me".

"Sorry". He didn't look sorry at all, even as he was shoved into another compartment.

Cygnus gestured dramatically, "These are my friends".

"Abraxas Malfoy and Thaddeus Nott", Malfoy was tall pale and blond but also quite handsome and Heleus couldn't quite stop the lustful thoughts that came to mind. Nott on the other hand was short and weedy with not much strength about him but by the mischievous look on his face he could tell the boy had plenty of cunning.

"Where are the others?" Cygnus asked sitting collapsing onto seat opposite the other two boys.

Malfoy looked up from where he was playing cards with Nott, "Avery and Lestrange went off to bully the first years and Fawley went to cheer up his little sister. She's apparently having separation issues so ,being the little Hufflepuff that he is, he's letting letting her cry all over his shoulders."

"You shouldn't make fun of him Abraxas, at times Joseph is even more Slytherin than you".

His neck almost snapped as he turned towards the owner of the smooth voice in the corner of the room. It was deep and calm, running over his skin like silk. His eyes connected with his own and he was instantly hooked. They were a deep hazel like the forest floor and the face. The face was stunning.

Deep brown curls perfectly styled on his head, pale unblemished skin and a perfect roman nose all accentuated by those gorgeous pink lips. How had he not noticed this man before?

The boy caught his stare and quirked a brow, standing up to his full height (only an inch taller than him) he held out his hand towards him.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. Pleasure to meet him".

It was at that moment that Heleus knew, one way or another, that this man would be his.

* * *

 **Authors' Notes:** Chapter 1 done!

Just one thing I'd like to make clear, this will be a reincarnation story and the first four or five chapters will be dedicated to Heleus (Harry) and Tom's backstory before the real main plot begins. It won't be bashing, Harry will be dark and the only reason he'll disagree with some characters (Weasleys, Hermione etc.) isn't because they're bad people and more because he's a bit of an evil shit...

Tom and Heleus are pretty much equal and opposite characters. Tom's downfall is the fact that he feels very little emotion. He's charming, intelligent and has so much potential for good but without empathy and compassion he doesn't have much capacity for good. Heleus' problem is he feels too much. The confusion and sadness he feels about his mothers death, the hate he feels for his father and do many other emotions are compacted together and he doesn't know what to feel. In the end, his brain just compacts all those things together into hate and that hate is inevitably turned into the extreme lust that he feels all the time and it leads him to do extremely horrible things. Like raping Aleka at the beginning of the chapter. Maybe they'll help eachother, maybe they'll just make things worse...

Another thing I'd like to mention is the weird sex magic thing Heleus did at the start of the chapter, with the fancy vapour and cutting her neck up, will be explained later on in the story and at some point will be quite important. Stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**A Deathly Kiss**

 **Chapter 2 -** Enemies of the heir

Tom Riddle didn't know quite what to think about the new transfer student.

Over the years he'd become quite a good judge of character. He could tell what kind of person someone was based on a combination of things: the way they acted, the way they dressed, who they were friends with and their emotional reaction to those around them. He'd also begun to develop legilimancy and the surface thoughts he could gleam proved very useful in assessing the inner workings of the human mind.

On first impression, Heleus Vasilikas was a standard aristocrat. His hair was jet black and tied in a bun on his head by a silver thong and wearing midnight blue robes with an unfamiliar crest upon them. He had a golden tan, the sort that couldn't be inherited and would only be created by long days in the beach or under the sun and Tom knew that he must be foreign in some way. This fact was later confirmed when he hear the boy's accent.

He acted quite similarly to Cygnus. A bit sarcastic and seemingly amused with everything around, his voice showed confidence and strength. But in comparison, none of it mattered because what Tom saw in his eyes told a different story. They were calm, assessing, flicking between each of the people in the compartment slowly and carefully. But there was also something underlying, something wholly primal like an animal trapped in a cage waiting for any excuse to attack.

And then, the most telling of all, was when those eyes lighted upon his own form.

Tom was no stranger to lust. He'd seen it in other people's eyes many times before. There were boys in his year who'd track his movements quietly at dinner times, struggling with their own emotion but undeniably attracted to him. There were others who'd approach with a vicious and lecherous look in their eyes, wanting a toy to use for a few days and Tom had always shown them their place very quickly. Then there were the girls, leeches most of them. Wanting to latch onto you and then suck away all of your money and happiness away through marriage. They wanted to be wooed, to be courted and treated like a princess. To lure you into their bed and make 'the most beautiful heirs'. They all disgusted him in their own way.

When looking into this teen's eyes there was lust, quite a lot of it. But that was veiled over by a much bigger emotion, something that was a sentiment to his already animal-like nature. It was unmistakably the look of possesion. Like this boys eyes had glimpsed at him and already decided that Tom belonged to him.

He didn't know wether to be intrigued or pissed off.

If any other looked at him that way, any of his _followers_ , they'd be cruciated until they knew just who belonged to who.

And this _boy_ to walk in and within 20 seconds have come to the conclusion that he was something _weak_ , something to be _owned._ It was unfathomable and it would be punished.

For now he could string him along, play this boys game. It would only make the vengeance sweeter in the end.

He carried on paying attention as he sat at their table in Slytherin robes for the Opening Feast. He memorised his speech patterns, the way he interacted with the others at the table and the way he seemed to be included almost immediately by the boys in their year purely based on his demeanour and blood-status. The girls seemed to swoon all over him and Tom could already visualise the letters they'd send home to their Mummies and Daddies, begging for a marriage contract with the young heir. And yet, through it all, his eyes always seemed to stray back towards him.

Tom was up early the next morning as usual, making his rounds as prefect. And as he passed by the entrance hall he saw a figure running down the steep hill towards the lake, hair tied back, topless and wearing black jogging bottoms with the Hogwarts crest worn proudly as he sprinted across the ground, he felt the unfamiliar swellings of lust throughout his body and he couldn't help thinking just how delicious the coming game would be.

* * *

Heleus collapsed down on the bench next to Lucretia, still exhausted from his run but feeling fresh after his shower.

He plucked an apple off her plate and took a large satisfying bite out of it, practically moaning. Once he swallowed he met her disapproving glare and smirked up at her. "Tell me everything you know about Tom Riddle".

The girl stilled completely, eyes going almost glassy for a moment before she looked over at him. She recognised instantly the look in his eyes. "Heleus, of all the people you could choose in the world Riddle is the worst".

He rolled his eyes, "Just tell me what you know and I'll make my own judgement".

She sighed and put down her Witch Weekly. "When he was first sorted into Slytherin there was a lot of backlash. With the name Riddle we all just assumed he was a mud-blood and nobody wanted him in the house of the pure. The most violently against it were the older Heirs. He was bullied intensely but always seemed to take it in his stride. He was a genius, none of us could deny that, but the older years called it out for being a suck up and a teacher's pet. Then in third year things got particularly bad and Richard Jugson, in the year above us, arranged an 'attack' on him. To teach the filthy brat a lesson is what they said. So they stole him out of his bed in the middle of the night and took him somewhere. All I know is that they left thinking him to be scum and came back worshiping the ground he walked on. The transformation was incredible, terrifying really. He gained his little group, Malfoy, Avery, Lestrange and the like. Then Cygnus joined in...They called themselves the Knights of Walpurgis but nobody really knows what the fuck that is. Just that they're the best of the best. And they head off once every week for meetings and even though they never disclose what they're doing there we can all tell it's something bad."

Heleus pursed his lips slightly, "So he's got himself a little cult?"

Lucretia growled and grabbed his collar, "You're not listening to me!" He smirked and her nails began to dig into his skin, wiping the smile off his face. "The last boy who tried to bed him got taken to St Mungos and never came back. He's trouble. You'll only end up getting yourself killed."

Instinctively, his eyes strayed down to the other end of the table where Riddle was sitting peacefully on his own eating an apple just as he himself had been doing before, and reading a book on potions masteries.

He looked completely innocent, but looks could be deceiving. After all, he looked completely normal and he could be the biggest monster of them all. Turning back to Lucretia with a nod, "I'll be careful Lucy. I promise".

* * *

His promise, it turned out, was completely irrelevant.

When the first victim turned up petrified in the corridor 2 months later with the message, 'enemies of the heir, beware', his eyes had strayed straight towards Tom Riddle. The blank mask on his face betrayed nothing and everything at the same time and he knew deep down in his heart that he was responsible, no question about it.

Those 2 months he'd tried to keep his promise. He'd partnered with Lucretia in every lesson possible and only talked to Cygnus when he was without his friends but he could never quite get Riddle's image out of his head.

He thought about him in Potions when those long fingered hands worked skilfully, cutting and stirring with the precision of a master. He thought about him as he duelled in Defence, the teen was in his element and Heleus relished in the feeling on his power washing over him. He thought about him in the throes of ecstasy, even as he viciously pounded into the body below him he always imagined the handsome hazel eyes boy doing exactly the same to him. And it was always that image, not the tight heat of his latest conquest, that brought him to climax.

The petrification was really only an excuse to him.

At the moment he was sitting in the office of one Albus Dumbledore with a mug of steaming green tea and a bowl of lemon drops in front of him as had become the weekly occurrence. The Professor was truly a font of knowledge and quite wise about events. The man had approached him during his first week of term with the offer of afternoon tea to talk about how he'd been getting on and he'd been joining him ever since.

They discussed many things: current events, Greece and the Olympus Academy as well interesting branches of magic. When he told Dumbledore he'd been contemplating staying in Britain and getting a job as an Unspeakable the man had shown him various books on alchemical processes and they'd spent a lot of time debating all sorts of crazy and implausible theorems.

Today's conversation, however, was subdued. After talking about the latest Transfiguration lesson they'd dissolved into a contemplative silence.

"Professor?" he asked quietly and the man snapped out of his musings.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any clue about who's responsible?" he inquired quietly. He didn't need to specify as they both knew exactly what he was talking about.

The man hummed thoughtfully, "I'm almost certain of the culprit but unfortunately I don't have much proof. I'm afraid if I voiced my thoughts the Headmaster would think I was going senile."

Heleus nodded along, "I understand what you mean Professor. But it's as I said before, somebody has to make the first step towards change. Why can't it be you?"

Dumbledore chuckled quietly, "You are truly wise beyond your years."

Later that night he lay in bed, staring blankly up at the deep green fabric with his breathing quiet and controlled as he listened to his dorm-mates leaving, one by one. Then, when they were all gone, he got out of his bed in his silk bottoms and a grey t-shirt and he followed behind them. He kept an eye on Malfoy as with his pale blond hair he stood out the most and he was able to follow them deeper through the dungeons and down a set of stairs that he didn't even know existed and into a large room with only a large stone table in the middle. Riddle was stood at the head and the others surrounded at the sides.

"Cygnus?" the boy inquired in a deathly quiet voice.

"Grindelwald's forces have made their way across Europe My Lord, he has followers on the ground in America and they'll soon be here in England".

Heleus felt his breathing speed up as he watched from outside the rooming, he began to panic as soon as he heard the word's My Lord leave Cygnus' and he couldn't help but think how right his cult analogy had been.

Tom sighed, "Grindelwald mustn't be allowed to take Britain. It isn't his country to take".

"Then what are we to do My Lord?" asked Aiden Avery from where he stood at the other end of the table.

"If we are lucky", Riddle began. "He will be taken care of before he can gain the upper hand within our borders. I've heard that Dumbledore is beginning to fight back, although he was reluctant before".

"And if he fails?"

Riddle turned to glare at the voice, "Then we will challenge him for his title. Now, for the main event. Abraxas?"

The blond turned towards the doorway and Heleus flinched back, for a second he thought their eyes had met but then he just continued walking to the corner of the room as if nothing had happened. He grabbed a small writhing figure from the corner of the room and he was pulled, kicking and biting, onto the stone table. A small purple vial was pulled out of Riddle's pocket, "This potion will erase his memory of no longer than 5 hours before it was ingested. I suggest we begin".

And begin they did.

They took it in turns, one by one sending all manner of dark curses at the boy as he screamed and bled and cried for mercy. Deep gashes formed over his arms and his wounds bled an unnatural black that bore the mark of only the most horrible of magics.

"Let it be learnt", said Riddle in a commanding tone. "That a mudblood such as you, Noah, is only worth one thing. And that is to serve the needs of the Worthy. Every moment you spend disrespecting your superiors is another mark on your skin".

The boy let out a pitiful whimper as Malfoy ran a blade down his inner thigh, the room was filled with the combined smells of coppery blood and urine.

"And though your wounds may heal", at this Riddle grasped his head and tilted the child's neck to the side. He dug one of his sharp nails into the cut running down the back of the boy's ear. "Though your memories may fade", he traced a finger over the boy's forehead as he leant down to whisper in his ear. "Let the knowledge forever prosper that you are worthless. You are nothing more than scum under the boots of the Pure". He released the boy's face and stepped back.

"Stop", his tone made all in the room instantly freeze. Even Heleus couldn't move.

He passed the vial to Avery. "Heal as many wounds as possible and make sure he returns to his bed as discretely as possible. Well done".

Hearing the signal of the end of the meeting Heleus quickly jumped into a dark alcove and hid, heart pummelling his ribcage as he tried to get over what he'd just seen. Riddle swept past him and all but Avery followed, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary just occurred. When he felt it was safe to leave he stepped out, only to walk straight into a hard chest.

A hand grabbed his collar and he was slammed into a wall as all the air was knocked out of him and he saw the very familiar face of Abraxas Malfoy. His face was curled into a vicious snarl, "Not so fast Vasilikas. You aren't going anywhere after what you've seen".

And for the first time, Heleus seriously feared for his life. The man holding him had almost tortured a boy to death and he knew if he didn't act fast he would meet the same fate. So he coped the only way he could. He grasped the other boy's colour and smashed Abraxas' lips to his in a fast and brutal kiss, full of force and clashing teeth. The boy responded almost immediately, letting go of his colour and getting lost in the lust. Heleus used the advantage to flip the two over so the other was pressed against the wall and instead of fighting he continued the attack on his lips.

He yanked the other boy into the alcove and pushed him back onto the stone bench, using a spell to get rid of both their clothes quickly and sitting on the other teen's lap in order to guide his erection into his entrance.

Neither of them noticed the set of hazel eyes watching them outside the alcove with a smug look on his face as he tracked their movements.

Heleus rode to ecstasy on the blonde boy's lap and, when they were both done, he let Abraxas' dick slip out of his ass and summoned his wand from the mess all over the floor. He used a spell to ensure he was fully asleep before moving in to cut the pale alabaster skin right on the vein of his neck. The vapour that escaped him was a deep dark purple of forbidden magic. And when he breathed it in, when he tasted it, it was delicious. Like the delightful feeling when you learn another's secret and you can keep it all to yourself. He had never quite tasted anything like it and decided that Abraxas was his favourite conquest so far.

He spelled the Malfoy heir's clothes back on again and used cleaning charms to get rid of the sticky semen covering their bodies of the floor. Then when he was dressed he woke the boy up again who snapped to life almost instantly. He looked around before his eyes lighted on his temporary lover. He grasped his collar and pulled him right to his face and instead of the vicious words of anger he expected, he was only met with sorrow. "You can't tell a soul".

Then he was gone and Heleus almost felt sorry for the young Heir. But then he felt the thrum of newly ingested dark magic through his veins and merely smirked. Oh what a delicious secret he had.

* * *

The next day at breakfast he caught Abraxas' eyes on him and turned to look at them, he was met with the familiar stoic pureblood mask with very little recognition of last nights events. Malfoy, like so many before, was going to walk away. Deny who he was and deny his involvement with Heleus. To him, he was just a one night fuck and good for nothing else. People like him were wrong though, he had much more power than they could ever stand. Besides, even if Abraxas forgot, he knew he'd left his mark on him forever.

Lucretia was assessing him carefully. "What did you do?", she asked quietly.

"Nothing out of the ordinary", he answered mildly.

She opened her mouth to ask again but was quickly shut up as a pair of lips came down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Calm down Lucy, leave the poor boy alone". She blushed like a cherry tomato as Ignatius sat down beside her, ignoring the angry stares he got for sitting at the table. Good old Gryffindor Slytherin rivalry at work.

"He's done something!" she shrieked and he was reminded again how she shared Walburga's blood and some of her less favourable attributes.

Ignatius rolled his eyes at her, "Yes of course he has Lucy dear. And I assassinated the King last night".

She huffed angrily at him but said nothing else until she caught Abraxas' eyes looking at them, her mouth gaped and she looked between the two. "Please tell me you didn't" she hissed lowly. She made a small motion with her eyebrows that was hard to decipher.

"I really don't know what you're talking about". A look of complete sorrow came over her face and he thought she was going to cry for a split second, "If you don't trust me that's fine Heleus but please think about your actions before it's too late". She stood, grabbing Ignatius by the arm and pulled him out of the arm. He turned and mouthed a quick Sorry but was gone from his view just as briskly.

Inwardly, Heleus seethed and he left the table, stopping by his dorm to pick up his equipment before storming out towards the lake. Tom Riddle followed quickly behind him, barely catching up. "Vasilikas!"

"What?!" he snarled back as he slung the leather case over his back and pulled a long silver arrow out to sheath in his bow.

"What the hell are you doing?" Riddle questioned, staring at his bow like he was some kind of a madman.

"Archery, what does it look like? We learnt it at Olympus because we actually have a culture", he dropped a small silver disk on the floor and 5 targets burst out of it and floated in the air. He almost took Tom's head off as he swung around to shoot one of them dead in the centre. They circled around him, never staying in one place for more than a second.

"We have a culture", Tom stated indignantly almost like a child.

"Once. But it's been torn apart by your ministry. I've studied the laws of your people Tom and they're a bunch of bullshit. Elemental magics and festival rituals were banned hundreds of years ago along with most of your basic practices. At least I'm not afraid to worship the Gods, unlike you cowards who revoked your faith as soon as you faced opposition. My people would've stood our ground and faced execution." He released another arrow diagonally to his right and hit just to the left of the centre mark.

Riddle ground his teeth but seemed to come to a resolve. "Well then, if we've lost our way maybe you could teach us again. The dark families kept grimoires but not everything is suitable for record. Help us bring back the olde ways".

Heleus stopped abruptly and turned to the handsome boy behind him with a calculating look on his face, "I will never bow down to you and call you My Lord".

The boy merely looked amused, "So you know do you? Well it's best you learnt now lest I had to _teach you_ later".

He dropped his bow and arrow on the floor carelessly as if they weren't a priceless family heirloom and stepped forward. He ran his fingers through silky brown hair and traced his lips across the curve of the other mans ear. "And how, pray tell, would you teach me". He leant back and shivered at the lust in his eyes and a hand came up to his neck, sharp nails digging into his flesh with an iron grip as a face came dangerously close to his.

"Don't pretend you can exert any power over me, I could tear your body from the inside out and proceed to break your spirit until you have no choice but to kneel before me and call me your master". The nails were pressing so deep now that he could feel the blood trickling down the back of his neck. He grabbed the hand and wrenched it away from him, staring down at the copper blood that now dripped down both their fingers.

"As bad as you may be Tom you are no worse than I", he whispered quietly before stepping back and adopting a look of false confidence. "I do so love the games we play".

* * *

It was June next when he and Tom next had a full conversation.

Every other in between that time could hardly be classified as one, meaningless talk with no truth borne from the need to maintain their own masks. The threatened each-other with saccharine sweet smiles and were amiable enough around others but the dark emotions still festered angrily between them and they wouldn't spend another second together if they weren't forced by Cygnus.

He was friendly enough to the likes of Avery and Lestrange as they seemed to accept him. But Abraxas avoided him like the plague and he couldn't quite forget all of their faces in the act of torturing that young child. Not that he could demonize them. Had he not broken somebody just as they? By body and by mind? The image of the girl's tears still haunted him to this day and yet something deep, something so evil inside him couldn't help but feel powerful as he watched her shed them. Was this his darker side or was this simply the man he was under all of the masks he wore?

He'd studied hard and continued his tea visits with the deputy headmaster every week, maintaining the image of a kind and curious scholar that even the great Albus Dumbledore couldn't see beneath. That in itself was a miracle bearing in mind just how suspicious he seemed of Riddle, the ultimate teacher's pet and perfectly manipulative Slytherin that he was.

Christmas and the holidays were spent at Grimmauld place with the Black family and they'd attended a ball at the Rosier family mansion that was both in holiday spirit and to celebrate the contract between Cygnus and Druella. Despite his previous lapses in judgement when choosing brides and grooms for his descendants, Lord Black seemed to have chosen well as the two were adequately enamoured with one another. She was only 14 years to his 16 but he'd seen far worse age gaps. His great-great aunt on his mother's side had been contracted to a man 30 years older than her at the age of 15 simply for the large dowry he offered. Needless to say it wasn't a very happy marriage.

His father hadn't visited for the holiday's but had sent him a very nicely wrapped package containing the family Heir ring with a note to say he'd made him very proud. So the rumours hadn't found their way to his family yet? He'd buried the ring at the bottom of his trunk and probably would've sold it to a nice old lady if it wasn't impossible to do so.

Back at Hogwarts more petrifications had occurred, all of them Muggle-Born and it didn't take long for a pair of Ravenclaws to be spreading dark tales over the school about the heir of Slytherin's wicked ways. All of the _Hogwarts: A History_ books were out of the library in an hour and there were hundreds more on owl post order from Flourish and Blotts. It was a period filled with mad theories and the weird kind of excited paranoia that school students get with any kind of gossip.

All that ended when Myrtle Warren was found dead in the second floor bathroom.

A pathetic story was spun where 'gentle-giant' Rubeus Hagrid was expelled for the crime (although everyone knew an Acromantula couldn't petrify a thing) whilst the hero prefect Slytherin was given the award.

It was at that point that Heleus decided to end the stupid facade of a acquaintanceship the two had created and went to confront Tom. It just so happened that the boy was in said second floor bathroom.

"How does it feel?" Tom looked up from where he was sitting on a stone bench tracing patterns in the wall. He smiled calmly at his visitor.

Heleus entered the room fully and locked the door behind him, placing a strong silencing charm there so that nobody could hear the words they spoke. "How does it feel to be murderer?"

Tom turned to him with an amused look on his face. "Don't pretend to be some kind of rightcheous saint Heleus because you're not".

He sat down on the floor and stared at the other mans shoes before saying abruptly. "I raped a girl".

Time seemed to stop in the room and the Riddle looked down at him with complete shock on his face. Not anger or hatred, he couldn't say anything after all, just complete shock. Out of all the things the great Tom Riddle had guessed about him this certainly wasn't it. In fact it came nowhere near his circle of thought.

Heleus snorted, "I know right. Everyone knows I have a lot of sex but rape...nobody could have guessed that. I attacked that girl, took her virtue against her will and enjoyed every second of it". He sighed deeply. "But from one monster to another Tom, the longer you keep quiet the more the guilt eats you up inside. It's best if you confess now instead of living with the result of your lies for the rest of your life."

"I don't feel much", Tom replied still with a slightly confused look on his face as he leant back on the stone bench and they both stared up at the dripping stone ceiling and the spiders that crawled through the cracks.

"Why did you do it?" Tom asked him slowly, looking at him with an odd expression and a curl to his lips. It was purely sadistic, like the dark animal inside Heleus' heart was mirrored through another's body, it was an expression that called to him and begged him to join.

"Have you ever had sex before Riddle?" he asked quietly in almost a reverent whisper.

"A few times", the boy answered. "I can't say it was an enjoyable experience really, the girls were always so needy and whiny. I felt I wanted to Cruciate them".

He spared a brief second to respond with a chuckle before he got back to his point. "When you have sex with someone there are only two positions. It isn't Top or Bottom or anything as inane and basic as that. It's a target and an initiator. One gives and one who takes. During sex there is ultimately a point where one submits to another and thats when a bond forms between you. A bond so intricate, so primal, that it reaches into the very depths of your core, right into your magic and it latches on. All you need to do is find a way to release it, and you can absorb a piece of their power like a vapour. It's like a drug, one hit that supercharges your magic for hours afterwards and for a short amount of time it's the best feeling the universe can offer you. Aleka, the girl, she'd been watching me in the library for a while. I knew she liked me, the shy blushes and the childish way she'd write my name in love hearts when she thought I couldn't see. So I cornered her one day, took her into a cupboard and I raped her. The thing is, about this kind of sex magic, the more broken the target is the more you can take. In times of weakness all the barriers around your core fall away and you can reach in and grab their essence by the handful. If somebody was broken enough you could steal all their magic, their very life source, with just a single kiss. Aleka was broken from the moment I locked the door. She was a virgin too, which only made it worse. Every time a man touches her she won't help but see my face, I've ruined any act of love for her for all eternity and to bang the nail in the coffin I made sure she'll never be able to tell a soul. I took her spirit and tore it to pieces that day and I got high on the feeling, I took so much magic from her that day that I felt it for weeks, months after."

He turned to Tom and saw a familiar hungry look in the man's eyes that was so familiar to him. It was the same hunger he felt every time he chased his prey down and if he were honest to himself, that beast hungering inside of him would probably rape a hundred girls and boys if it could feel that high just one more time.

"What about Abraxas?" Tom asked confused. "I doubt he'd submit to anyone, well besides _his lord_ but that's a completely different story".

"You voyeur", he snorted. "Rapist", Tom replied.

"Touche", he murmured but then a dazed look came over his face. "Abraxas was special. He's gay you know, isn't attracted to women _at all_ but he's been contracted to Selinda Yaxley. He wouldn't tell his father anyway, he's the heir of the family and he'd be outcast from the whole of society if he told people. To them his only purpose is to make more Heir's and further the families standing. He may've fucked me but I was the one in control. In those moments, he gave me his secrets, succumbed to his deepest desires and that in itself created the deepest bond imaginable. And the magic that comes from such an event is simply divine."

Tom chuckled to himself, "We aren't quite so different after all. At least you can appreciate power at its finest".

"Maybe I don't want to be like you", he murmured quietly but Tom heard him perfectly fine. Within a second he was being grasped by his tie a hauled onto the other boy's lap, straddling his thighs. Tom breathed in his scent from the nape of his neck to his hair.

"I can smell it on you Heleus. You won't admit just how much you want that power, it calls to you from deep inside. It's an urge, so deep and primal like a part of your DNA that can never be rewritten. You can try to hide it but it's just as you said, the longer you lie the more it eats you up inside." Lips caressed the shell of his ear lightly. "Let it go. The barriers you hold on you cage around your instincts. Let them go and I can give you exactly what you crave, all the power you'll ever need".

"You aren't my master Tom and you never will be", he growled and yet he made no move to be released from the other's grasp.

Hands combed through his hair, pulling it from its binding. "I was wrong", he murmured. Almost as if the fact was an impossibility. "You're worth so much more than that. You weren't meant to follow Heleus. You and I were meant to lead. Together. If the world is lost, we will guide it. If the people are blind we shall make them see. And if they refuse we'll break their spirits and you shall have all of the power you could ever want for and you will be by my side. Do you want that?"

"More than anything in the world", he moaned at the feeling of the lips so near and yet miles away from touching him just as he wished.

"Then all you have to say is yes".

Then lips were attacking his own, fierce and violent yet filled with such a longing and passion that they'd never felt before. Not for all the people they'd harmed or broken or tortured but only for each-other. They were both despicable, they were both monsters. But that was ok as long as they walked through the oncoming fire together. For the first time ever they both felt something for their lover. Not just the power they could gain but the want in their hearts that sang at the very touch of the other. To any other it would be disgusting, but to them it was beautiful.

And when he let Tom enter him they shared each-others power in a way they'd never experienced before. Then later as the lay in each-others arms on the bathroom floor they both looked up to the ceiling, wondering in unison whether this was the beginning of their world or the end of everyone else's. Perhaps both.

The game they thought they ended was only just beginning.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Deathly Kiss**

 **Chapter 3 -** The Ring

Florence Shaw had been working since she was thirteen.

She was thirty-three now and she barely even showed it. Sure, her hands were calloused and cracked from hours scrubbing away at dishes and clothes. Her arms had small burns from back when she was an inexperienced§ cook just getting a hold of the reins. But she still had that fresh-faced, childish air about her and a naivete that would never truly leave her.

Her mother had been weak from the moment she'd given birth and could barely leave her bed at times. Florence herself was a bastard born of an affair between a noble-man and a seamstress. The man had denied ever having touched her and because her mother couldn't work there was never enough money to get by in their household. Many nights were spent starving and cold in their small room with no hope of a better future.

When she turned ten, Florence had been given away by her mother to an old woman who ran an orphanage for young girls, the girls there were taught to clean, cook and sew so that one day they could go find work in the outside world.

However, their education there left many of the girls lacking.

Florence, for one, was never taught how to write. She could make a six-course meal perfectly well but when it came to putting pen to paper her skills were wholly inadequate. She could read simple instructions but nothing beyond concise sentences in block lettering, her speech was good enough to seem mildly literate and to hold a short conversation but she'd never really ventured past that.

She was almost completely uneducated and yet that didn't really seem to matter for someone of her stature. At the age of thirteen, she'd been taken on by a nice upper-class family, who lived in a manor just outside a small village in Yorkshire. They had one son who was around twenty and was the typical handsome man about town and the parents were an older couple who'd inherited their money from their entrepreneur families in the industry business. They'd asked for somebody young, like her, to be able to do the cooking and cleaning about the home in exchange for food, bed and a small amount of money once a month that she could use to buy fabric and other luxuries from the market. It was a very nice deal and she'd agreed immediately.

Yes, life with the Riddle family seemed quite good.

It was a Saturday presently and Florence had just finished prepping the dessert and the vegetable's for Sunday Lunch the next day when she heard the doorbell ring distantly. She put down her knife and washed her hands quickly before leaving the kitchen for the small entry hall.

She opened the door outside and was instantly met by the blowing winds of the uncharacteristically stormy summer night. The rain was lashing down outside and the dusk was concealed by looming clouds. On the doorstep stood a drenched young man in a long trench-coat with the hood pulled over his head. When he looked up she was met with the sight of the most dazzling emerald eyes.

"Excuse me", he started. His voice was neither high nor low but it held a rich smooth quality like rich coffee. It was British but held a quality of something undeniably foreign that she couldn't quite pick up on, but, being the simple girl that she was, didn't think to question at all. He had a dark tan, like someone who'd spent hours bathing in the sun, and long black hair that fell just below his chin and seemed mussed by the heavy winds and the fabric of his coat rubbing against it. He was dressed in similar clothes to her Master's, finely woven from a high-quality thread. His coat was long and black, brushing just above his knees, and he was wearing pressed black slacks, a clean white shirt, and an emerald green tie.

"My car broke down further up the road I was wondering if I could use your telephone".

Now Florence had never been romantically given. Her life, as it was, had left no room for her to ever become so and the spoils of love seemed to have bypassed her completely. However, in the presence of this young man, she couldn't help but blush a startling red. "O-Of c-course sir". She opened the door wide and scurried off to find Mr. Riddle and inform him of the guest.

The man had left his parlor immediately and come to assess the intruder.

"Who might you be?" the man asked in a low suspicious voice.

"Chester Lawrence", the guest introduced himself quietly as he offered a hand to be shaken and the man obliged reluctantly. "My car seems to have broken down. I fear it's much to stormy for me to reach the village so I wondered if I could perhaps use your telephone."

Mr. Riddle looked him up and down, taking in his fine clothing and seemed to come the opinion that he was up to standard. His smile was genuine as he asked, "Would you like to come into the parlor? There's no need to rush yourself there's always a spare room to stay the night here."

Florence watched quietly as the two left towards the parlor and headed back towards the kitchen in order to finish her evening's work so that she could prepare her bed. It was just as she was placing her unused ingredients back in the pantry that she heard the back door, the one only ever used by her or some of the other staff, creak open slowly. She hummed as she continued to float around without a care. When she turned back towards the tap she was met by the spitting image of her Master's son, Tom Riddle, except marginally taller and with dark hazel eyes.

The man stared down at him with his head tilted and a curious expression marring his features.

"Florence?" the voice of Mrs. Riddle sounded through the house and she heard the door open on the other side of the room and clip-clop of heels approaching.

When her eyes met those of the man in front of her once again he simply grinned sadistically and brandished some kind of long blade.

Then the world snapped to black and the seemingly insignificant life of Florence Shaw came to an end."

* * *

"Your room is delightful".

Heleus took a seat in the corner on an aged wooden chair and flicked a speck of dust off his immaculately tailored clothes. Then he took a moment to look around. The peeling wallpaper on the walls and the damp ceiling that was dripping into a metal bucket in the corner. There was a large wardrobe in the corner of the room filled with clothes and various trinkets and the bed was a small twin bed and despite its fraying covers, it was made perfectly. There was another metal in the bed in the room that was conspicuously empty without covers or a mattress on it.

"There are nicer rooms", Tom spoke softly as he fluffed up the pillow on his bed. "But I didn't get the privilege. The matron isn't very fond of me".

He snorted at that, "You have all of the teachers wrapped around your little finger. One muggle couldn't be more knowledgable than them."

"I made a few small mistakes in my first meeting with Dumbledore and he hasn't taken his eyes off me since. The matron? She's seen much worse." At the questioning look he received he elaborated, "I traumatized a few children. Hung a rabbit from the rafters. Things no child would do. They called me the devil, tried to exorcize me". He hissed at the image but realized it was a topic neither was willing to broach.

"Are you going to tell me why I'm here?" he encouraged.

"It's been so long since I last saw you. The people here, they just aren't the same..." he explained with such an expression of profound loss that for a second a small feeble part of his mind thought it to be true.

"Bullshit", he disputed. The other man glared at him in something that could be considered as petulance, "How could you tell?"

"Don't get me wrong, Tom, you're a great liar". The man smiled smugly and he leaned back in his chair, "But you can't feel jack shit".

"I can feel some things", he clarified. "Just not quite in the same way as others."

There was a brief silence in which they just stared at each other, "Are you going to answer my question?"

Tom quirked his lip and stood up so that he was standing above him, "I have come up with an idea of sorts. And I need the help of another".

"Idea?" he asked skeptically.

"I've managed to track down the rest of my _family_ ", he grimaced at the title before a grin came over his face. "Wouldn't it be so terrible if something were to... _happen_...to them".

"It hasn't been long since you last killed someone and you're already trying to get back in the game", Heleus replied with disgust on his face as he stood up and began walking to the door.

"My mother died in childbirth. You know? She stumbled through the steps of the orphanage on a dark December night. She barely had enough time to name me before she died of blood loss and infection. Do you think that would've happened if she'd had a rich family to support her, to care for her and her child? If that man had even cared for one second then she wouldn't have died that day. He let her die, and he will pay with his own life in return".

Heleus' hand still stayed on the door but his grip lessened.

"I'm not asking you to cast the spell", he urged. "Just help make sure that I don't get caught. I need you to do this for me."

His hand slipped fully away and his feet somehow found their way back into the center of the room, "Do you have a plan?"

The other man's hand slipped into his hair gently, "Well..."

And so, a few days later, they found themselves in Little Hangleton on a stormy evening with their plan almost ready to put into motion. They only needed one more ingredient.

"Get what you need and get out", Heleus reminded him harshly whilst handing him a short silver blade with foreign engravings upon it. "It's a Goblin-made ritual knife, if you touch the engravings the runes will activate and it'll heal wounds as soon as they're made. Use this and only this, if you even try and touch that man with your wand your magical signature will be over the place. That's exactly what we're trying to avoid. Meet me at the manor in half an hour, do you remember the signal?"

"I have a near enough eidetic memory", Tom sniffed. "I couldn't forget if I tried." He received one last pensive look before Heleus drew his hood up and headed out from underneath the bus shelter and towards the large manor upon the hill.

He turned in the opposite direction and started his way down a country road lined with hedgerows. As he got closer to the shack the flowers on the bushes seemed to wilt and the bushes turned more thorny until they were nothing more than twisted dead wood full of barbs. The grass was either dead or dying and there were burnt patches in random places like the remnants of misplaced spellfire. The shack itself was nearly falling apart, probably being held together by weak magic. Everything was rusting and rotting, a tree had collapsed in the corner of the yard and the windows looked to have been smashed by hand or stone. There dead animals dotting the ground, mostly snakes, and they all seemed to be torn apart by dark magic. There was another snake, seemingly a python, pinned to the door by an iron nail and its eyes were carved out leaving holes of dried blood and flesh in their stead.

He pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make too much of a noise, and slipped into the hallway. It was short and ran the length of the shack, there was an open doorway to his left and a few broken doors to his right. He heard snoring from his left and headed straight to that direction where he found a small 'living room'. There was a squat table in the corner and a few wooden chairs. The kitchen area had some cauldrons set up and a few cupboards but other than that the room was practically bare. He was revolted by what was left of the once noble House of Gaunt.

It's Lord (if he could be considered as such) lay was asleep on a wooden chair snoring loudly. Tom looked him over and was glad, for once, that he'd received the majority of his genetics from his father. This man looked disgusting, his body and features were disfigured from generations of inbreeding and held nothing of the handsome features of his Slytherin ancestors. His skin was waxy and almost yellow in pallor, the dirt and grime covering made it clear he hadn't bathed properly in years if ever. He was thin and starving and some of his bones weren't formed correctly giving him a hunched figure with twisted limbs.

He sneered at the man and pulled the knife from his pocket. The request for flesh was an odd one given to him by his lover but it had been made quite clear to him just how necessary it was.

And so he obliged.

He made a deep cut into his forearm and began to saw through the skin until he had a long thick strip that he pulled from the man. He wrapped it quickly in the fabric he'd been given and watched in fascination as the muscles and flesh began to knit itself back together as if it had never been gone.

Just as he was about to leave his eye caught on something glinting on the man's body. A lone jewel in a kingdom full of rubbish. He lifted Morfin's finger and stared down at the ring. It was made from polished silver, kept clean by the magic imbued within it. The rough cut jewel was black onyx engraved with a small white symbol. A triangle with a circle within it and bisected by a line. He'd seen the symbol for the Gaunt family and this certainly wasn't it.

He could tell this wasn't an Heir or Lordship ring by the writings on it but it certainly was an heirloom of a noble house, one he didn't seem to recognize. The Slytherin family had branched off into many different lines, including the Gaunt's, and the only way his Uncle could've gotten his hand on such a gem would be a claim by blood. After all, nobody respectable would ever bequeath _anything_ to Morfin Gaunt.

He wrapped his hand around it and tugged until it slipped gently off and into his hand. That's when he felt it.

The magic poured off it in dark and seductive waves.

The sort he'd only felt in the chamber of secrets. Or when scouring the darkest depths of the Malfoy family library, the places where even the Lord of the house didn't dare go. Or sometimes, even, in the throes of passion. When his and his lover's magic combined and mutated into something darker and more malevolent than either of them could ever even dream to possess in their own veins.

This wasn't any magic though, no. This was the oldest of them all, something defied the very laws of magic itself.

Necromancy.

He knew that he needed this. He knew that as soon as his hands rested upon this object that he would do whatever it took to keep it in his possession.

What better way to do so than to imbue it with his own soul?

It wasn't the first time he'd traversed such plains. His diary, his most precious prize, was a Horcrux. An experiment he'd made when he'd ordered the murder of Myrtle Warren, the bullied Ravenclaw who'd died at the hands of his beloved basilisk. The spells and enchantments he'd placed on it made sure that if it ever fell into the hands of another it would leach away at their soul until his Horcrux became corporeal again. It was an idea that had been inspired by his very own Heleus, the ability to take away someone's magic had fascinated from the moment he'd learned of it. By preying on the writer's weaknesses and fears, he'd be brought back to life.

It was ingenious if he could say so himself.

But it was only part of his goal, he had a long way to go till his soul was split to seven.

It was something that had been drilled into the third years' minds as soon as they started arithmancy. There were some numbers in the world that were magically stronger than others. 3, 7, 13 and even 666 were so powerful when applied to the magical theory that they were used as the basis of all runic chains and spell creation. Without those fundamentals to rely on they would become completely unstable.

He wanted to gather objects that were valuable. That meant something. The Diary was only there as a facade, who would think twice about writing their thoughts in a harmless old notebook?

The other 5 Horcruxes would be something of legend.

* * *

Heleus looked up from the glass of whiskey he'd been given to the man sitting across from him.

Mr. Riddle was relaxing on his green leather armchair with a similar glass of whiskey which he was rolling casually in his hand and observing with a keen eye. "So, Mr. Lawrence, where do you come from?"

"My family home is in Harrogate. My aunt owns a country home not far away from here, I was on my way back when my car broke down", he spoke slowly so as not to mispronounce his words. The accent was something he'd been practicing for the last few days, trying to imitate others tones of voice and writing words phonetically in order to make sense of things. Luckily the man before him seemed to believe him.

"And your business?" he inquired politely.

"My great-grandfather made his money in factories sir. The industrial revolution paid well".

"As it does", Riddle nodded in return.

The door opened behind them and he turned to see Tom Riddle Jr. in the doorway looking worn and wet as he pulled off his jacket. "Take a seat, son. We have a guest".

The man collapsed on one of the other chairs and poured himself a large glass of whiskey. He shook himself before offering a hand to Heleus in greeting. He then turned back to his father, "I just came back from dinner with the Bennetts. Apparently, they've moved the firm to Oxford and they'll be selling their house within the month".

Mr. Riddle nodded sadly, "A great loss to the community I'm sure".

He turned to see his guest staring intently at his son and raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Is everything ok Mr. Lawrence".

"You look just like him", Heleus murmured in shock as he looks him up and town with a furrowed brow.

"Like who?" he was starting to get worried and his eyes drifted subtly to the telephone on the other side of the room.

"Would you really forget?" he laughed humourlessly. His voice, this time, had changed almost completely from the perfect British into something unfamiliar wholly European in sound. "Your own son?"

And with one word the heat disappeared from the room until it was cold as ice. They both lost what little color they had in their face and the glass tumbler almost slipped from the elder Riddle's hand, "You have no clue of what you speak".

"Really?" he mocked. "So you don't remember Merope Gaunt?"

"That woman was a heathen. The spawn of the devil himself, she tricked me", he seethed angrily as he downed the rest of the bottle of whiskey. Nobody seemed to care.

"So you threw her out? Let a pregnant young woman roam the streets with no food and nowhere to go for shelter. She may have wronged you but her child was innocent, he was of your own blood and you cast him away without second thought. What kind of person does that make you?"

Suddenly an ear piercing scream shook the house and he had to fight the shiver that surged up his spine. "That would be your wife," He stated blankly. "We're willing to make a deal. There's no question of whether or not the two of you will die today. Mrs. Riddle, however, had no knowledge of these events and certainly doesn't deserve to die for them. If you can apologize, from the depths of your shallow little heart, she'll walk out of this building alive. It's your decision".

"That woman deserved everything she got. The boy was no child of mine", Tom Riddle stated with conviction even as the familiar glint of fear crept into his eyes. He knew he was going to die within the hour and he wished his last words to be meaningful.

"Now hold on a minute son", Mr. Riddle growled angrily but it was already too late.

Heleus took the last swig of his whiskey and let the glass slip soundly from his hand, it seemed to almost fall in slow motion before them. The ice cubes reached the ground first with a clinking noise and as the glass hit it shattered into tiny crystalline pieces that should've been impossible without the inhuman strength he'd exerted upon it. The sound of the break echoed throughout the house and another scream was released. This one wrought with pain and the anguish of a woman breathing her last breath.

You could've heard a pin drop in the silence.

The door swung open and in walked in a young and fresh looking Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was holding the Goblin-made blade in his hand and crimson streaks were running from the tips of his forearm to his elbow. The smell of coppery blood permeated the air and it took all of his strength to stop him from vomiting on the wooden floor. Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a white kitchen rag, using it to slowly wipe the blood off his skin and cleanse the knife as best as possible. "The maid got in the way. She had to be taken care of".

"Edith", Mr. Riddle whispered in shock as a hand came to cover his gaping mouth and a lone tear dripped down his face. For a moment, Heleus felt bad for him.

But no. He couldn't. Because if this man and his son had tried to care for Merope Gaunt and her child then this monster would never be created. His wife would still be alive. Their own actions had condemned them to this fate and of that he was certain.

"Did you use your wand?" he inquired.

"Not at all, as per your request. Besides, I found the hands-on experience to be". He paused with an odd look on his face, " _enlightening_ ". His eyes snapped to the last remaining members of his muggle _family_ and he brandished the knife once again. Then without any hesitation at all he slashed it through the air, cutting through the flesh of his father's neck. Blood sprayed everywhere from the open wound and splashed at his face and his clothes. He flinched back from it, standing as his chair flew to the other side of the room. He turned to the other man in shock as Tom simply stood there, knife clutched in hand, watching his own father die by his hand.

Then he turned to him, a smirk on his face, and held the handle out. "Your turn".

"I didn't sign up for this".

His lover stepped toward him, pressing the handle in his hand and grasping his wrist gently. He turned him towards Mr. Riddle with the knife blade still out and bought his mouth down to bite his lover's ear earning him a loud moan. "Come on. Once you get the hang of it it'll be easy as Lumos". He slowly eased the knife forward and they both watched as their entwined arms pushed the blade into Riddle's stomach and he let out a weak cry. Blood seeped out slowly, dripping only slightly onto his fingers as they pulled the knife away again.

His whole body froze as he stared down at the knife in his hands, it slipped away with a loud clatter to the floor and he stumbled down beside it. Strong arms came around him and cradled him to their chest as his breaths came raggedly and he began to hyperventilate. He was soothed slowly back to coherency and when he turned around to meet hazel eyes he found them to be cold and harsh. The hands that caressed him instead grabbed his chin in a bruising grip that wouldn't cease. "I didn't agree to this for you to turn into a blubbering girl. You're a wizard, act like one. This won't be the first time you'll be asked to kill and if you ever wish to stand by my side you'll have to learn to do it on your own without breaking down every time you say a spell. These emotions? They're weak. Cast them aside before I do the same to you". He was shoved harshly aside and stumbled quickly to his feet.

"Ready?"

He nodded sharply and was lead back into the kitchen where he was met with the sight of two freshly dead bodies, hacked into pieces.

"You said you had a plan?" Tom prodded.

"The knife?" he gestured with his hand and the Goblin blade was slipped between his fingers. The inscriptions no longer glowed as the runes had been de-activated, enabling it to function as a normal knife and to make wounds as usual.

A piece of wrapped up fabric was passed towards him and he unfolded it carefully to reveal the hunk of bloody flesh inside. He let it slip tot he floor with a grimace and went about the kitchen gathering what he needed. "There's an ancient Trojan ritual that they used to do. Groups of magical warriors would each cut off a piece of their own flesh and perform a sacred rite that would allow them to release the power from within it. Supposedly this combined power would be sacrificed to the God's in return for good fortune during their next battle." He began pouring herbs and salt over the flesh and then in a circle around it. He grabbed a bottle of fortified wine and downed half the bottle before pouring the rest on the floor and drawing crude letters in greek. "It's a bit impromptu but we're not trying to tempt the God's. All we really need to do is get enough magical essence out of this thing that the Aurors can easily trace the crime back to Morfin Gaunt."

"His signature will be over everything", Tom murmured in realization.

"And ours will not", he clarified in return before kneeling on the ground and planting his hands firmly on both sides of the ritual circle and began to chant quietly in Greek.

"Apó ti sárka sto aíma kai tin psychí Afíste aftí ti dýnami na sas réei me epithymía thysía Étsi óste i Magic na evimerísei gia álli mia forá", he continued onwards and the patterns on the floor began to glow a sickly green. Then from within the center of the circle particles began to swirl and form together, dancing in unison. They both lifted their hands to cover their faces as the particles exploded outwards in a clouded mass before drifting away into nothingness. The floor was left spotless.

Heleus hurried back into the other room where he dropped the knife haphazardly on the floor and tried to rearrange things in the room to make it appear as if there was more of a convincing struggle. When he stepped back once again the crime scene was complete and he could feel the thrum of weak almost squib-like magic floating through the air and dispersing throughout the house.

He stared down blankly at the dead body of Mr. Riddle and a hand closed forcefully around his upper arm. "Time to go". And then he was dragged out of the house by brute force. They walked a long way down country roads before it was deemed that they were far enough away to apparate. They parted without a goodbye and without the promise of further meetings, they both had much to contemplate.

* * *

He barely paid attention as the Daily Prophet hit the kitchen table with a plop in front of him and continued to munch away at his bagel.

The Black family was seated around the table for breakfast. Arcturus was perusing the finance section of the daily prophet and muttering quietly every once in a while about some kind of Norweigan clothes company that he didn't understand. His wife, Melania, was elegantly nibbling on a salmon cracker whilst reading the letters from her various pureblood friends. Orion, as of yet, had not been seen and it was presumed he was either still in bed or with his head in some tome in the library. Lucretia had just stormed into the kitchen and presented him nicely with a copy of the newspaper.

She stood expectantly with her hands on her hips, waiting for him to read. With a sigh, he lifted up the paper and began to read.

The image was one he recognized instantly. The Riddle manor in its prestigious glory was pictured in the typical black and white of wizarding pictures. You could see the wind gust by and the occasional rustle of trees.

 ** _THE LAST GAUNT TO BE SENTENCED TO AZKABAN_**

He didn't dare read the rest, for he knew exactly what the words would be and it was an experience he'd rather forget.

"I'm not sure whether you're aware of this", Lucretia said slowly as she took a seat opposite him. "But in Britain, the ministry has ways to detect magical frequencies. It's supposed to only pick up on underage magic but its general purpose is to detect anomalies. Magic appearing in areas where it shouldn't do. Which is why underage magic usually goes undetected in wizarding homes or places like Diagon Alley."

He lifted his eyes carefully to look at her from across the table. "We have a similar scheme in Greece", he allowed a small smirk to come over his face. "Ours is far more effective".

Lucretia's face didn't move a single muscle as she retained her perfectly honed pureblood masks. "There was little to no magic detected in Little Hangleton for years. Nothing larger than weak spells. Then one day, part of the village lights up like a Christmas tree and when the Aurors come knocking they find that". She flipped the page over to a picture of a bloody living room and two dead bodies with wide, glazed eyes. "Their name was Riddle".

He said nothing, remained completely silent but he could see from the corner of his eye that the topic of conversation had drawn Melania and Arcturus' attention towards them. When his eyes met Lucretia's her brows were drawn with a look fo stress and concentration on her face.

"You were talking to _him_ on the last day of school. I saw it. You've talked to him before but...I could tell this was different", her eyes by now were completely steely. "If you know anything about this, Heleus. You must tell me now. I won't let you and Cygnus be involved in such affairs any longer if it is so."

"Lucretia", her mother spoke softly as she placed her food back on her plate gently. "You wouldn't be accusing your cousin of such unsavory things. You ought to know better".

"No", she growled. " _He_ ought to understand the difference between polite company and a psychopath. I've tried to talk to Cygnus and he won't listen and it seems neither will Heleus so it's up to me, up to the family, to right these wrongs. You must understand me mother, this is of the utmost importance!"

"That is enough", Arcturus stated as he placed his paper down at the table with an air of finality. "I put full trust in the Lords of the Wizengamot. If this man is to be sentenced to Azkaban then he must be guilty and your accusations unfounded. Lucretia, you would do best to not paint your family in such a bad light. Both Cygnus and Heleus are old enough to make their own decisions and intelligent enough to know what is right. Don't question that".

Lucretia's pale face blossomed bright red at the cheeks and she stood abruptly, storming out the kitchen and slamming the door behind her.

Arcturus turned to him with a forceful expression, "It would do you well not to try and prove me wrong".

"Of course not sir", he replied solemnly and returned his gaze back to his food. The image on the paper not quite leaving his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Deathly Kiss**

 **Chapter 4 -** The beginning of the end

"Gentlemen", Tom exulted from his position at the front of the dark dungeon room. There was little light from the few candles and yet it all seemed to focus on him at once, giving the impression of an angel. Or at least a devil dressed as one. "It is the beginning of a new year and the culmination of many years past. When we board the Hogwarts express next summer we will enter society and be expected to go forward as fully fledged wizards. To lead the next generations".

He stilled for a moment in order to let his eyes roam over everyone in the room slowly. "In light of this", he drawled. "I'd like to ensure we're all on the same page."

Aiden Avery's eyes flickered towards Heleus with the familiar signs of brewing suspicion behind them. He'd voiced his concerns over their new member multiple times and had been rebuked repeatedly.

It was two nights after the opening feast and most of the students had settled down for the start of the new term. Tom Riddle had managed to charm his way into the Head Boy position, much to Dumbledore's frustration, and was already trying to use this power to recruit more people to his cause. So far Zakariya Zabini, a 6th year Slytherin, had stepped forward.

"Surely it should be obvious what page we're on?" Reginald Lestrange asked with an incredulous expression on his face.

"You would think wouldn't you", Tom answered sagely. "But, with the help of one of our newest recruits, I have come to a few profound realizations that I must make sure you are all on board with before we continue".

"That recruit wouldn't happen to be Vasilikas, would it?" Avery growled menacingly.

"Perhaps it is. Is there something you wish to say about that?"

"He's a liability!" Aiden exploded loudly as he stood from his chair. "He spends his time with Lucretia and fucking _Ignatius Prewett_ of all people. And don't pretend you haven't seen him going off to Dumbledore's office in the evening's. The more you say in his presence the more he'll go and report back to him, then, in the end, he'll just fuck off back to Greece where he belongs."

"Heleus has my full confidence", Tom reassured calmly. "He is a very useful asset to us and I won't have him slipping through my fingers because of your childish display of jealousy. You should sit down so that we can continue with our discussions".

Avery's eye twitched and snarled in Heleus' direction before collapsing to the chair with a loud thump. Zakariya Zabini, who had been seated next to him at the beginning of the meeting, was watching him with a curious expression on his face.

"Muggles", the Head Boy started once again, "are our inferiors. They lack our power, our skill and most of all they lack a cause. They are worthless to us. Their children, however, are not."

"Like Muggle-borns", Zabini murmured quietly and Tom smiled a little at how quickly his new recruit was catching on.

"Exactly".

"Muggle-borns are no better than the Muggles themselves", Abraxas interjected. "They're uncouth. The longer they stay within the magical community the more our blood becomes tainted. We can't allow this to carry on".

"You're right in some respects", Heleus concurred from his end of the table where he'd mostly been silent to this point. "Muggle-borns have, in a way, tainted our community. But not in the way you believe. Lady Magic chooses who she wants to gift her power to, Muggle-borns included. She chooses those who she believes has the most potential and she can just as easily take her gifts away. As evidenced by Squibs. In this way, Muggle-borns are just as worthy of their magic as we are".

He paused to hear some of the discordant murmurs throughout the group before carrying on, "Every magical bloodline has to have a beginning and somewhere in your ancestry will be a completely ordinary pair of mundane muggles who's child just so happened to be given the gift of magic. This is true for every single Pureblood line in existence, Wizard and Creature. Your forefathers were _muggles._ And yet their children, when given this gift, have let their lines grown for hundreds and thousands of years until they became the empire's that they are today".

He let his words sink into the group for a moment and a look of dawning realization came over Zabini's face. "Every Muggle-born has the potential to sire a pureblood line", he stated with an odd quirk to his lips.

He had the feeling that Zabini would soon become one of his new favorite people.

"So what?" Lestrange interrupted with a sour look on his face. "What does that mean? We just leave them all be? We give up?"

"It means", Zabini clarified. "That our problem with Muggle-borns is Nurture, not Nature."

Heleus nodded towards him in confirmation towards Zakariya. "Our mission isn't just to start pulling out our wands and eradicating the Muggle species. Because despite what we may believe their children are valuable to us and the new lines they will create are the only things stopping us from inbreeding ourselves out of existence. The problem with Muggle-borns is not their blood but the way they were raised. Muggle society and religion make sure that as soon as Muggle-borns enter Hogwarts they have a twisted point of view. They believe _our society_ is backward. Over the years the Ministry has changed their laws and rules to accommodate those raised by Muggles. Halloween is to be celebrated instead of Samhain. Christmas instead of Yule. We've spent so many years doing this that eventually, we started believing what the Muggle-borns preached. Our religion, something to be worshipped and coveted, was branded as Dark Magic because of the evil that Muggle-borns thought it to be. Our culture is falling to shreds and we need to take action".

"And so", Tom picked up where he'd finished. "Our mission is complete separation from the Muggle world. Magical children born to Muggle's will be taken from them and raised by Wizard's so that they can learn our customs. This way new blood will continue to be brought into the community without us losing our culture. Of course, all of these changes will face opposition so I propose that we work the issue on two fronts. First, from within the Ministry itself. Many of the people in this room either have future Lordships or the potential to find themselves a very influential position in the Government. The second is a more pro-active approach. None of you are averse to violence. We'll tear our opposition to pieces until they have no choice but to turn to us to rebuild".

Lestrange seemed to sink back into his chair slowly, "I don't like it...but I trust your judgment. This is the best way."

Tom nodded once towards him and turned to the rest of the group, "Does anybody wish to object?" When nobody answered he continued.

"Once I graduate it's very likely that I'll have to leave the country. There are...objects that I need to find that are vital to our success and I must gather them immediately before we launch our attack on the ministry. In the time that I am gone, I'd like you all to start amassing potential allies, find likeminded people to our cause. We'll need as much help as we can get", he emphasized.

The group nodded although a few looked a bit put out by his impending departure. "That will be all". People slowly started to leave until it was only Heleus and Tom left in the now silent room.

"Were you going to tell me your leaving?" he questioned quietly.

"Yes of course", Tom reasoned. "It's not set in stone, it really depends if I find what I need".

"Which is?" he prompted.

"I can't tell you everything Heleus. There are some secrets that must stay my own. Rest assured, someday soon I'll tell you all".

Heleus wasn't sure that he wanted that day to come.

* * *

He was surprised it took at least a month for Dumbledore to send his first invitation to meet.

It had been on a Saturday morning at the breakfast when one of the black school owls swept down from the rafters and dropped the small note on his empty plate. He'd taken to sitting in the center of the table alongside the other knights and was at that time engaged in a conversation with Joseph Fawley on the rights of creatures such as Werewolves.

"I agree we shouldn't kill them", Joseph had reasoned calmly. "But there has to be something in place to stop them from attacking Wizards".

"Tagging? Really?" Heleus drawled.

"It's not like you can think anything better" he responded tartly.

It was just at that moment that he heard the noise of something hitting his plate and turned to find the note. The words were written in perfect calligraphy as usual.

 _Heleus,_

 _I would like to extend an invitation for afternoon tea if you're amenable. I have recently come into the possession of a new formula from my dear friend Nicholas Flamel that I think you would be interested to discuss._

 _I will be expecting you at 3 o'clock_

 _Dumbledore_

 _P.S. I really did enjoy that lovely salt-water taffy they started selling at Honeydukes_

He calmly folded the note back up and placed it in his pocket, carefully ignoring the smug look he knew was on Avery's face. The one that quite clearly said I told you so.

He rose from the table and bade his farewell to Joseph before heading off towards the library to complete his final pieces of Transfiguration homework before the lesson on Monday. He got halfway there when he heard the sound of running footsteps and a firm hand clasped his shoulder in an attempt to stop his progress. "Wait". He stopped immediately as he recognized the voice and turned to see Ignatius Prewett standing behind him and taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. His cheeks were a bright red against his pale skin and seemed to accentuate the redness of his hair.

"I haven't talked to you in ages", he stated with furrowed brows then took another heaving breath before collapsing back against the stone wall. He blew away a strand of his hair that had just fallen in front of his eyes. "You and Lucretia seem to be avoiding each other".

"We had a conflict of interest", he said blandly.

"Really?" he asked completely unimpressed. "Before summer you were thick as thieves. I doubt a 'conflict of interest' could change that".

"It's true", he sniffed. "Believe what you wish, I have no time for you if you don't believe what I say".

"Sorry", Ignatius mumbled. "It's just...Lucretia seems really down lately and nothing I do will cheer her up. She needs you Heleus".

"And I needed her", he deflected. "But she didn't trust me. I understand that she cares but she needs to understand that I'm an adult and I don't need her making decisions for me. I didn't ask for her to agree with me just to respect my decisions and she couldn't do that. If she really wanted to talk to me she'd come and find me herself".

He stopped for a moment to watch as a dejected expression came over his friend's face before offering a small sad smile and leaving to go to the library.

Later that afternoon he found his way to Professor Dumbledore's office, not far away from the Transfiguration classroom. The door was sandwiched between a full-sized portrait of an old knitting witch and a painted landscape of the Welsh countryside completed by a roaring dragon crouched upon a hilltop. He knocked once on the door and a small lion figurine appeared in place of a handle. It opened it's mouth and spoke in a low monotone. " _Password_ ".

"Salt-Water Taffy". Then watched in mild curiosity as the lion head twisted and the door clicked open to reveal the familiar image of Dumbledore seated at his desk. He was marking a large stack of papers in a bright and certainly impractical yellow color. There was an old tome propped open on a metal stand to one side of his desk with gloves hung on the stand for viewing. He looked up from a paper and smiled happily towards him, shifting the work to the side to be completed a later date.

"Heleus, come in. Make sure to close the door behind you". He stood from his chair and drifted towards the metal stand and started to pull on the pair of old leather gloves.

"Usually I don't wear gloves when reading books but Nicholas was very adamant. When he gets passionate about something..." he trailed off with a small chuckle. "Well let's just have a look then. I've been informed that this book came from Jamaica. I've never been myself but I've heard they've got some particularly nice coffee beans that I feel would make excellent sweets. Perhaps we could use our joint powers of persuasion to convince Honeydukes to invest."

"This one is a very rare find", he gestured for Heleus to come closer and he very nearly reached out to touch the pages before he composed himself. "Most Wizards look at Alchemy from a magical point of view, as a branch of Transfiguration. This one comes from a Muggle-born wizard. He traveled the world with his father, a scientist, at a young age and liked to apply the theories he learned to Magic. For example, here he talked about the structure of atoms and how each element had a different number of protons".

"I'm not very familiar with this particular branch of _science_ ", he said slowly. In truth, he wasn't aware of many branches of science at all. He knew a small amount of Muggle Biology from what they'd taught during the healing courses at school but that was only rudimentary.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "Well, this Wizard decided that if we could somehow adjust the number of protons within an element, we could change any substance into another. And not a temporary change like most Transfigurations are that have to be fed magic in order to remain in their change state. He talks about permanently changing the structure of a substance, it should be impossible but with magic, we could make it happen".

"Simply ingenious sir", he praised.

"Yes it is", the man mumbled whilst pulling the gloves off slowly. "Now that we have the educational portion of our meeting out the way I'd like to have a _personal_ conversation with you. I hope you don't believe I'm overstepping my boundaries."

"Of course not, sir", he replied kindly whilst taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk and taking a sip from the conjured cup of tea that had just been poured for him by an overly excitable house-elf that had popped in from the kitchen. There was also a small fresh bowl of sweets that seemed to be a different flavor of those sherbet sweets that Dumbledore always seemed to be eating.

"Tom Riddle..." Dumbledore commented. "What is he like?"

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand".

"It seems you have been spending a lot more time with him and his _companions_ than you were last year". He clarified. "What has changed?"

He stopped for a moment to gather himself, fully aware that he had to tread carefully from here on out. "He's different to what I believed him to be. We got to talking before the summer and I realized that my preconceived notions were not entirely correct. He's a very intelligent man and offers stimulating conversation".

Dumbledore frowned at him almost imperceptibly and took a long contemplative sip from his glass, "Would you call him...a friend?"

 _'We're certainly more than friendly'_ a little voice in the back of his mind supplied but he successfully managed to ignore it. "Well yes", he supplied. "He's been nothing other than kind to me in the time I've actually got to know him."

He seemed to accept this comment and nodded politely before broaching what appeared to be a completely different topic. Heleus, however, knew better. "I take it you saw the news over the summer. About Morfin Gaunt being arrested".

"Yes it was rather odd", he remarked. "Things like that don't much happen in Greece".

"They don't happen much here either", Dumbledore replied. "Of course, in recent years during the war, there was a lot of Muggle-baiting occurring but nothing quite so violent in nature." He paused to study him from across the table, "And how did Mr. Riddle react to the news?"

"I didn't know it was particularly relevant to him", he said in confusion as he reached out to pinch one of the sherberts on the table. Dumbledore looked amused by his actions before returning to the serious nature of the conversation.

"I'm sorry. I forgot they didn't say so in the Prophet but...the family that was killed, their last name was Riddle. They were his family".

He looked up sharply to meet the old man's eyes as his own seemed to narrow. "I wasn't aware. Besides, I don't believe he ever met them or would wish to do so. I was under the impression that they abandoned him to an orphanage".

Dumbledore seemed shocked that he was aware of so much already. "It certainly seems to have been so".

"I'm not quite comfortable talking about this sir. You must understand", he said with a conflicted expression on his face.

The professor came back to himself out of a sort of contemplative trance, "Of course. I've already asked too much". He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "So...have you applied for the Unspeakable program. It's always a good idea to try and jump the gun on these things. You don't have to wait for your NEWT results as I'm sure they'll be more than adequate".

Heleus leaned back and took a long sip from his teacup, "Perhaps you could provide your assistance, sir. I'm sure you're much more knowledgable about the British Ministry than I am".

Dumbledore looked on with something akin to fond amusement, "After living with the Black family for two summers I know that's not the case. But nonetheless, I would be very glad to offer my assistance."

He coughed slightly into his cup and then the two carried on their conversations as usual.

* * *

When Tom gazed upon his lover that evening at dinner, the sight that met him was one he'd never seen before.

His hands were clenched against the table, knuckles white and his whole body seemed to be tensed. His breathing came in long deep breaths as if he was trying to calm the raging beast inside him. He could practically hear the _thump thump thump_ of the man's heart racing at 100 miles per hour. And his eyes...

Those bright green eyes seemed to glow unnaturally. Infused with something vicious. Something feral.

This man was a ticking bomb waiting to explode.

He glanced carefully around the table to look at the others in the group, all of them either engaged in active conversation or attempting to devour their food whilst maintaining at least some modicum of decorum. He lay his knife and fork down in the center of the clean plate elegantly, side by side in a perfectly straight line, and then conjured a white napkin with which he wiped his hands carefully before vanishing it once again. When he was done, he let his hand slip just below the table, inching its way across the bench until it found it's way to the soft fabric of the other man's trousers. From there it slowly slid upwards to rest on his hip where he gave a small squeeze to attract his attention.

Those glowing green eyes seemed to flicker downwards to the hand before going straight back upwards to meet familiar hazel eyes.

"Why so tense?" he purred lowly, seductively, in a way that usually made Heleus' eye twitch in irritation. Anyone else would take the lust in his voice to be true but Heleus knew that tone and it was a tone of mocking.

He followed the other man's eyes to settle on a boy on the other side of the room. One that Tom knew to be a muggle-born but was admittedly attractive with his strong features and curly blond hair that fell in front of his eyes.

His lip turned up in disgust before his hand took a much stronger, bruising grip on his lovers hip. "What is it?" he purred into his ear. "Is our sex life boring you my dear?"

Then he noticed the signs.

The red eyes, the tense nearly shaking body and the sweat beads that seemed to work their way down Heleus' forehead. It was the sort of thing he'd only ever seen in the potions addicts on the streets in Knockturn Alley, the ones who couldn't afford to get their fix and couldn't sleep until they could pump their veins full of toxic chemicals once again.

And he knew, with absolute certainty, that Heleus would never do such a thing to his body.

So it must be something else...

"How long?" he murmured quietly enough so that only the both of them could hear.

"I've had nobody but you since Abraxas. Usually it only takes a few weeks for me to get so bad but... you're almost like a Placebo. Tricking my body into thinking that it's getting what it wants but after a while, it realizes exactly what is happening and..." he trailed off as a small shudder seemed to come up his spine.

"You're getting withdrawal symptoms", he drawled. "From sex".

"It's not like that and you know it", Heleus growled angrily. "It's not the sex itself it's the magic. Normal sex always gives off some magic which is why I've been able to hold off for this long but it's not the same. The power", he shuddered again as a wave of lust seemed to come over his body and his pupils dilated.

Tom knew the feeling.

Not the sex part of course. That wasn't his Modus Operandi. But the ecstasy that he felt, the sort that only ever came when your power was rushing through your veins and your wand was clenched in your fist. The ecstasy when he saw his victim fall prey to his blade and the blood flowed from them and he saw the life leave their eyes and knew that it was him who caused this to occur. That their life, however short and insignificant, now belonged to him.

It was a feeling he lived for and he'd felt a similar pain to Heleus' ever since that first time he'd strung Billy Stubbs' rabbit from the rafters. Watching its blood dripped down on the ceiling and listening as its owner cried saline rivers. He stood in the dark shadows of that room and for the first time in his life he truly smiled. And after that day he'd been aching to sink his teeth into something better. He spent his days imaging the ways in which he'd make his enemies scream, he'd watch them from across the halls with frantic anticipation as they fell right into his traps.

The power was exhilarating.

And the pain Heleus felt from its loss was one he knew he could easily help with.

His fingers lifted till they gently tilted the other man's hin in the direction of a different boy across the hall. This one was smaller with dark brown hair and stunning sapphire eyes that gleamed innocently from where he sat all on his lonesome at the end of the Ravenclaw table. He had androgynous features and a slight build that most quidditch fans would refer to as a standard Seekers form. The boy would do.

"Preston Cole," he said quietly with his lips almost tracing the shell of his ear. "Quite pretty isn't he?"

"You can't be suggesting..." Heleus scowled.

To this, he was only met with a smirk.

Later that evening, Preston Cole was stopped in the middle of the hallway as he sprinted past the Charms corridor with his arms full of books. "No running in the halls", Tom Riddle said in a stern tone as he stepped out from an alcove where he'd been surveying the corridor.

The smaller boy stilled in his steps and turned with a look of wide-eyed terror at the head boy who towered above him despite being only a year his senior. "I'm sorry I was trying to get back to the common room before curfew", he babbled.

Tom made a tut-tutting noise and shook his head in disappointment before lifting his wand and waving it through the air with a quietly murmured _Tempus._ Then the numbers 22:03 appeared in bright red letters in the air. "Unfortunately Mr. Cole you already appear to be late. I'm going to have to report you to your head of house".

A look of defeat came over the boy and he sighed in resignation. "Of course".

He was led further along the corridor and to the left to a hallway devoid of portraits except for one of a sleeping wizard wearing old Chinese style robes. "Shortcut", the taller man murmured as he peeled open the portrait with an expectant look on his face. Preston looked around cautiously before entering the portrait hole, Tom followed close behind him.

The room they entered was a large and unused classroom decked out with the same small poufs that could be found in the Divination Tower along with stacks of wooden chairs in the corner that were covered from head to toe in cobwebs. Sitting on one of the desks, with his legs crossed and his head tilted in contemplation, was Heleus Vasilikas. He rose from the table and walked towards him as Preston seemed to become completely frozen in his skin. A hand came forward and played with one of the stray pieces before tucking it behind his ear.

Tom came up behind Heleus and wrapped arms around his waist whilst placing soft kisses up and down his neck. "I must admit I do see the appeal".

"Please", Preston cried desperately as he tried to find his way out of what was soon to come.

"Don't worry", one of the men murmured although he didn't know who. His mind was too far gone by now and rational thought seemed to have left him in place of fear. "You won't remember a thing".

The next half an hour was filled with desperate struggles and tears for the boy as Heleus viciously and relentlessly attacked him as the other man watched on. Occasionally uttering words of encouragement or running his hands along the boy's body with a smirk that, if he could've thought in those moments, he would've easily seen the devil within it.

In truth, he lost what was left of him in these minutes. And he didn't even need a memory charm because his subconscious, in a desperate attempt to save itself, took these memories and buried them in the darkest depths of his mind along with the last remnants of his happiness to be long forgotten for many years to come.

In the aftermath, he became a shell of himself.

Heleus pulled the knife out of the back of his pocket and started to make the incision down Preston's throat as Tom watched on in genuine fascination. The vapor that was released was pure and untainted white that smelled and tasted like flowers and forest floor. And as soon as he breathed it in, his veins were flooded with unknown power and he became revitalized like never before.

Like a high he couldn't come down from.

He dropped the boy carelessly to the ground with a thud and stepped calmly over his unconscious form before finding his way into his lovers' lap and winding his hand round his tie to pull him forward. They were pressed together, their bodies seemed to fit together and their foreheads touched lightly against one another.

"Can you feel it?" he whispered reverently. "In the air?"

He could, faintly. The tingle of fresh magic brushing over his skin but it felt completely different from the ecstasy his lover seemed to be feeling.

"Yes", he replied softly.

And then their lips met and their previous activities seemed to be forgotten to the passion. Because as powerful as it had made him feel, in reality, it was nothing compared to this.

* * *

He watched as the rest of his year mates boarded the train at the end of the year, following sedately behind them with his trunk levitating near his heels. The compartments were quickly filling up but he knew he needn't worry as Tom had already found them a place to sit along with the other Knights.

His focus, at that moment, was on the image of Lucretia Black leaned against the window of the train with a scowl on her face as she read through the pages of a Witch Weekly magazine. He let his trunk float onto the train, knowing that the charms he'd put on it would ensure it found its way to his compartment. When it had floated into the distance he let his feet carry him onto the steps and through the long open carriage filled with younger students playing games and talking about what they were going to do over the summer. When he reached his cousin's compartment she found it to be empty bar her, her usual entourage of Slytherin girls off gossiping in some other corner. Even Ignatius was absent, although his trunk must've been stashed above the seats if the Gryffindor colors could attest to its ownership.

She looked up almost as soon as his handle touched the door and he could see her hand inching towards her wand.

He held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender and then, after a few moments without any movement, he decided that it meant she wasn't going to curse him and went inside. "It's been a long time since we've had a proper conversation".

That was an understatement. They'd barely uttered a word to one another since that breakfast over summer, not even out of necessity.

She seemed to recognize this and snorted quietly. "What is it you want?"

"Just to talk. Please", he urged.

She shook her head sadly and leaned back into the seat with closed eyes. She took a deep breath before saying quietly, "I didn't really think I knew you. Of course not".

She shrugged, "We've only met two years ago and one of those was spent ignoring each other. But you just seemed so nice, and funny and just different. So different from everyone else I knew but...then things changed. And I saw you fall into the same trap that I knew Cygnus was already caught in and it tore me to shreds because I couldn't lose you to _them_ ". She turned to him, eyes sparkling with tears, "You were like a brother to me for that short time."

This time when her eyes met his they were filled with raw anger and an underlying pain that he'd never seen before. "You're no better than him. Not really. It took me so long to realize but how can _I_ know you when you don't really know _yourself._ You're charming when you want to be. Just like him. And the rest of the time? There's something about you just chills me to the bone".

"I'm terrified", she whispered. "Terrified of the person you've become. And I have no idea what to do."

He came to sit down beside her and held her hand in between his to give her his warmth. Something comforting and humane left for her to hang on to. "You run", he replied solemnly and watched as her eyes snapped to his wide in confusion. "You leave this train today, take Ignatius and you never come back. There's a war coming, Lucretia, and if you stay here you'll only get caught in the middle of it and I won't let you get hear because of my own foolish desires. I'd rather you ran away and lived with _muggles_ if that what it takes. Get married, settle down and _live your life."_

"You know I can't do that", she stressed. "How can I leave my family to ruin?"

He cupped her cold cheek and made sure that their eyes were looking straight at each other so that she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I can't affect their choices. Those aren't my decision to make. But swear on my life and to magic herself that I will do whatever it takes to keep your family safe."

They stayed like that for a while as her eyes tried to analyze his features to ensure he was telling the complete truth and when she knew he wasn't lying, she pulled him into his arms and sobbed until no tears could possibly leave her eyes. And he indulged her, stroking her hair and whispering kind words as a new fierceness came over him.

He would make sure he kept his promise.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Deathly Kiss**

 **Chapter 5 -** Reincarnate

It was only a few months after graduation when they naturally found their way back to the grounds of Hogwarts.

They'd spent their day in Hogsmeade doing the mundane tasks of picking out furniture for the small apartment they were renting. Despite numerous offers from Fawley, Lestrange and the like to stay in their family manors they had decided on a place in one of the by-streets down Knockturn Alley. It was a shady place but the Dark Artefacts trading center of Britain. Their apartment alone was next to a potions store which sold some barely legal (and illegal) ingredients and the wand shop opposite was owned by a particularly suspicious man who could make nearly any substance into a wand core as long as it came from a magical being. Human flesh included and apparently, it had to be harvested whilst the subject was still living. And awake.

After finally settling on a sofa and an old antique desk they'd left for the gates of Hogwarts where they'd depart.

"I'll see you afterward", Tom reminded him as if he'd forgotten.

"I know", he replied and then he looked up. Spotting the image of Dumbledore coming across the grounds towards them he leaned forward and pressed a gentle almost caring kiss on his lips. At the odd look he received he let his eyes flicker to the side to signal that someone was coming up behind them. Tom caressed his cheek with the back of his hand and waited for the clearing of someone's throat to reach their ears. They both turned, perfect looks of shock adorning their faces as if they honestly hadn't seen anyone coming up behind them.

"Professor Dippet is ready to see you", Dumbledore said softly and Tom nodded in turn. He let his hand linger for a moment longer before heading off towards the castle.

"It's been a while Professor", he spoke politely with a small smile on his face and the Professor chuckled. "A few months is hardly what I'd call a long time".

"I still miss our conversations".

"Then perhaps we should use this time to catch up?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

They started their walk towards the lake. In summer the water seemed to shine a clear blue that it never did in the other seasons and the grass was a fresh green dotted with white blooming daisies.

"I see you and Tom are still friends. Perhaps more..." he trailed off with an odd tone of voice. Like sadness.

"Do you have a problem with that sir? I didn't take you as the type", he pretended to frown to himself and watched him out of the corner of his eye.

"No, no of course not. I thought you would have gathered by now that I am certainly not that type".

Heleus shrugged back, "You can never truly know, can you? Even the nicest people can be completely different behind closed doors".

"That is all too true", the Professor murmured before his voice took on a wistful tone. "I knew a man once, in my childhood. That was a very long time ago and I was, by all accounts, a completely different person. I met him one summer and when he talked...he spoke of peace and beauty and the most amazing future I could ever come to imagine. I don't know how he felt for me but I know that I loved that man, something in me still does today. But as with all sweet things they have the potential to turn rotten. And it took something horrific for me to realize the error of my ways. I turned tail and ran. Sometimes I try and imagine what it would be like if I didn't. If I'd have stayed would I have had the power to change him? Or would we just carry on down the same path...I can't know and it doesn't do to dwell". The older man turned to him with a look of blindingly profound sorrow.

"Do you love him?" he asked all of a sudden.

Did he? It was a hard question to answer.

Tom Riddle was all of the things he could ever want. Powerful, handsome, charming and passionate. He could sing sweet words whilst bringing down a building with his raw power. He could be cruel and manipulative. That much had been proved time and time again. But with Tom, Heleus could well and truly be himself. Both sides, equal and opposite. He could be stupid and sarcastic, he could be violent and bloody, and Tom would indulge it all. Not once batting an eyelid with that same look of perpetual amusement quirking his lips. When Tom struck, he struck back just as fiercely and they both knew that no matter how hard they hit neither would ever truly submit to the other. Because they didn't want somebody weak and somebody compliant. What they wanted was each other.

Was that love? He honestly couldn't tell. But there were moments of weakness, of kindness. When they'd lie in bed of night, just holding each other in their arms and no words were necessary at all. He didn't even know whether it was true. Tom Riddle was a psychopath, or at least so he'd gathered. Could he feel anything at all?

No, he didn't love him. But he could already see himself falling down that rabbit hole and it was far too late to get out.

Dumbledore seemed to take his silence as an answer, "It's ok to fall in love. It doesn't show weakness, it shows that you're human". He turned to meet his eyes, "It is in times like these, young Heleus, where we have the power to either do great good or great evil. When that time comes, remember who you love. Remember why. Lead with your heart, that is the only way".

Heleus wasn't sure whether those were the best words or the worst given the situation. They might just come to be this man's downfall.

"I'll take your advice", he acknowledged. "You are, of course, the wise one. I've always been taught to listen to my elders".

"I suppose I am quite old", he pointed out. "But age does not always equal intellect. You were a very good student".

"Not as good as Tom though".

Dumbledore's eyes strayed up to the tower where he knew they'd be having the interview right at that moment. "Yes', he mused, "Tom was always quite the genius".

* * *

"Your academic records are exceptional", Dippet praised from where he sat at his desk pondering over the paperwork he'd been presented with.

"Thank you, sir", Tom thanked kindly. "I hope they are up to your standard".

"Yes, certainly, certainly" he murmured before leaning forwards and tapping his chin in deep thought. "You are more than qualified my dear boy but I'm afraid I can't accept you".

Tom felt the stirrings of anger in his gut and fought to keep himself calm, "Is there something wrong sir?"

The man shook his head quickly, "Not with you. You've only just got out of school." A look of sympathy came over his face, "I've read your file. It's my understanding that your childhood in the _orphanage_ wasn't the most pleasant one. Now that you're an adult, you're free of all that. It's your time to go out, travel the world and see the sights. Not be tied down by rude students and hundreds of papers to mark. Give it a few years and if you've considered all the possibilities and still believe that this is your best option then come back and we'll have this interview again".

"I understand sir", he stood and offered a handshake which was returned with a happy if slightly remorseful.

He walked back across the grounds with his jaw set and his hands twitching, he saw Dumbledore talking to Heleus and instantly drifted towards the lake where they were just finishing their conversation.

"Tom?" Heleus said in surprise. "How did it go?"

"Let's talk when we get home. It was very nice to see you, Professor, but we really need to get going", he slipped his arm around Heleus' waist and smiled a charming smile that all three of them was completely fake but nobody wished to comment upon.

"Of course. I'll see you soon?" Heleus agreed quickly before he was dragged away to cross the school wards and back towards Hogsmeade.

He leaned in to whisper into Heleus' ear, "How do you feel about blowing off some steam?"

"In what way", Heleus smiled suggestively and Tom traced his hand across the man's waist where he knew a knife was stashed. Their eyes met and they both just understood.

* * *

They'd lived in their apartment for ten years.

That was a very long time, although small when compared to the normal life expectancy for a wizard. They'd developed their own sort of routine, no matter how different it was from other peoples.

Every morning the two of them would wake up at exactly 5 A.M and, if they were in the mood, participate in some lazy half awake sex either in bed or in the shower that would help to get them ready for the day ahead. They'd sit at their small kitchen table and drink steaming hot cups of coffee that were as high a percentage of caffeine as their bodies could handle without collapsing. They made sure they were dressed in appropriate dress robes and groomed their hair to perfection, then they'd put on their nicest smile and head to work. Tom spent his day in a Dark Arts shop on Knockturn call Borgin and Burkes where they sold all kinds of interesting products sold to them from all over the world. He would read through the books and analyze artifacts in his spare time, then charm the rich and mysterious customers who came to ask of his assistance. Heleus would go to the Ministry where he spent his time in a dark basement researching the secrets of the Wizarding World, satiating his thirst for the obscure and the ritualistic arts. Most crimes which were punishable by death were perfectly legal in the safety of the Department of Mysteries. All in the name of progress of course.

When they got home they discussed their day and then they would, sometimes, take a trip out. This really depended on the day of the week. They'd visit the old Knights, many of whom had been paired off with their respective wives and had their own heirs to take care of. Every once in a while they'd take to the streets of Muggle London and find themselves an interesting person. One thing to be noted about Tom Riddle was his thirst for blood. If it wasn't dealt with it would compound upon itself and become impossible to deal with between the two of them. Sometimes they'd just dissolve into their research.

The ten years were amazing to Heleus. The hours they spent together, just the two of them in their apartment, were something to be cherished and they appealed to that small part of him that still longed for home and for family. That small piece of humanity that still clung to his heart like a leech that wouldn't let go.

He'd stepped into the rabbit hole and he'd fallen. Hard.

And one day he came home to Tom Riddle, sitting at the small kitchen table with his hands in his lap and his brows furrowed in concentration. His head had snapped up as soon as the door had opened and eyes had beckoned him to sit down. "It's time we left this place".

Many, many questions came to his mind at this statement but he stayed quiet.

"We can't go just yet. I still have a few things to do but before I even get to that there's something I have to tell you. Something that I probably should've told you before".

He reached under the table and pulled out an object, a small black jewelry box. He sucked in a breath and his eyes went wide. A second later another object was placed on the table, a black diary with the word's _T.M. Riddle_ inscribed on the back. He reached out instinctively till his hand was splayed across the cool leather and shiver went up his spine. He could feel the magic pouring out of it. Dark, powerful, seductive and oh so achingly familiar. But that was impossible. Until he realized it wasn't. His eyes snapped up to the man across from him, a look of disbelief marring his features. "You didn't..."

"You understand?" he asked softly.

"Psychí prósdesi", he confirmed. "A Horcrux, I assume." His eyes drifted to the box. "More than one?" He could hear the slightly hysterical edge to his tone. His palms were sweating and his heart was beating far too fast. If he didn't get out now he'd have a panic attack.

"Two for now. But I have plans for 4 more."

"Seven is the most stable magical number", he murmured before halting his train of thought.

Tom smiled, "Imagine it though. Complete Immortality. Never having to worry about death or injure because you know you can always return. We could rule _forever_ ".

"We?" he asked breathily. "You want me to..." he shuddered at the thought.

Tom took a deep breath and leaned in to clasp his hand tightly, "I need you Heleus. I could survive without you but I could never truly _live._ What is the purpose of changing the world if the only ones worthy, the two of us, are already dead? It will all be for naught".

He pulled his hand back, "How do I know I can trust you? How do I know this isn't just a game?"

"You have nothing to lose", Tom assured. He pushed the box towards him and let his wandless magic flick it open. Heleus had always been jealous of that. "It's a ring. I've done my research and it belonged to the Peverell family, descendants of Slytherin. Synonymous for their research into the Necromantic arts. I thought it was symbolic".

"It has your soul inside it".

"A piece", Tom confirmed. "I want you to wear it. I want the world to know that you're mine."

 _Mine._ He was a possession. Of course, he was. It was like he always knew, Psychopaths could never love. But Tom wanted him, lusted after him and cherished him as much as it was emotionally possible to do. So what if it wasn't love? Only Heleus could and ever would make him feel this way. Only Heleus could ever be _the dark lord's_ equal. This was what he wanted, no _needed._

He pulled the ring out of the box and felt the heavy weight of the onyx stone settle in his palm, admiring the engravings with a critical eye. "It's charmed so that only you and I can touch it. Anybody else would die a particularly slow and gruesome death." Heleus slowly slipped the ring onto his finger and felt the magic settle over him, it felt like ecstasy in his veins and he let out a breathy moan that made Tom smirk.

"There's another way", he hinted and watched as Tom's eyes narrowed in confusion. "A ritual they used to do in the ancient times. Banned because it was deemed immoral. They used to think it was sort of like an arranged marriage vow, to force a bond between newly-weds to stop animosity between the two. The only downside was that if one of the partners died so would the other. About 100 years later they found out that the reason why was because instead of creating a bond between their magic it created a bond through their souls. Like, well the best way to describe it would be induced soulmates. One soul cannot exist on the mortal plane without the other and so if one died it would always drag the other to the Astral Plane alongside it".

Tom was following his words intently and came to the correct conclusion almost immediately. "If it works one way, surely it would work in reverse. My soul has been tethered to the earth by my Horcruxes so it can never go to this ' _Astral Plane'._ If we did this to us neither of us could die. My soul already has a tether and if ours were bonded yours could never ascend without mine".

Heleus nodded in agreement, "We can only every die if we died together. And that would be impossible".

"It's ingenious!"

"It's risky", he interjected. "But not as risky as me trying to create a Horcrux. It would screw with my magic completely. The difference between you, Tom, and the rest of the magical population is the pure power you have. If anybody else tried to create _one_ Horcrux they'd go insane but you've made 2 and it's barely made a dent. You're so powerful it's just like your soul pieces are still functioning as normal even when they're housed in a completely different unit. It's incredible. But it wouldn't work for me. My powers would never be the same again and its something we can't afford to try. This is my only option".

"Let's do it".

* * *

One quick cut across the woman's throat was enough to start the blood flowing. The potion stopped it clotting, meaning that her whole body would bleed itself dry from the cut, no matter how shallow. The blood flooded the carved indents on the floor, painting rich crimson words in Ancient Greek symbols surrounding the whole room. Her body was disposed of but her heart was left behind.

The two men watched the process with blank faces. Both of them were naked with runes painted in black across their forearms. It was an odd sight to behold.

"They used to do it with animals", Heleus commented. "Or at least the most people did. Those with looser morals realized that human blood was much more effective. Murder wounds the soul, makes it more susceptible to change. The Horcrux ritual should've required it too".

Tom nodded in answer, "That and much more. I got creative".

They walked to the center of the room and knelt down on both sides of the heart. Tom leaned down to pick it up and was shocked to find it still beating, although weak and irregular the soft thumping was still there. They both let their hands wrap around the heart and slowly squeezed. The thumping sped up, getting louder and stronger like a wild panicking animal until it ceased and the muscle seemed to turn to dust within their hands. A dust which they started to rub into the runes along their arms. "Have I ever told you that your rituals are very odd?" Tom inquired. He was met with a cold blank stare. "What now?"

"We fuck", Heleus said crassly. Then he was launching himself forward. Lips met and teeth clacked together with violent force. The magic of the ritual was already starting to work, sending fiery sparks of power up and down their veins. As they progressed onwards, the connection only got stronger. And when they reached climax it was hard to distinguish between who's pleasure was who's as they felt both experiences in their very core.

This was what heaven felt like.

2 days later, Hepzibah Smith was found dead in her home. Supposedly killed at the hands of her house elf. Nobody noticed that two of her most prized artifacts were missing.

1 week after that, both Tom Riddle and Heleus Vasilikas quit their jobs and packed up the essentials from their Knockturn Alley apartment and headed to Gringotts where they did a few things. First, Heleus had all of the money from his vault in Greece transferred over and placed in a private vault. Then he handed in his Heir ring to the Goblins, officially revoking his title as future Lord of the House of Vasilikas. Tom claimed his legal right as the Lord of Slytherin. Although the title held no money, the political value was completely priceless. Under the names of Thomas and Heleus Slytherin, they headed off to the continent and the rest of the world. Not to be seen for at least another decade.

* * *

It had been around 20 years since Tom Riddle had applied for the Defence against the dark arts position. 10 since Albus Dumbledore had last seen or heard of either Tom Riddle or his once favorite student Heleus Vasilikas. Heleus had been working at the ministry in his desired position as unspeakable and if what people said was true he enjoyed the job very much. Then one day he just dropped off the face of the earth.

To be honest, Dumbledore didn't know whether he'd see either of them ever again. He certainly didn't expect Tom Riddle to walk into his newly acquired Headmaster's office looking not a day over 25 although he should be almost 40. The only thing that had really change were his eyes. The colors, once a warm hazel now showed the signs of darkening to a dark crimson. Like rubies. Or more accurately like blood. He was here, just as promised, to claim the job he had once been denied.

"Tom Riddle!" He exclaimed, more than a little surprised. "It has been far too long".

The man twitched slightly at the name but he didn't make any attempts to object to it. "Good afternoon Professor Dumbledore. I assume you are well? Heleus has inquired about you often".

"You still live together?" he asked curiously.

Tom let his hand come up onto the table to display a golden band on his ring finger, "We're married. Have been for about 10 years. It was a quiet affair, we signed the paperwork at the bank with a few Goblins as witnesses. It was convenient at the time. I would apologize that you didn't get an invite but the same is true for everyone else".

Dumbledore chuckled in amusement but the underlying tone of apprehension was still there. Tom Riddle and Heleus had got married. He still remembered the words he'd spoke a long time ago and he hoped that perhaps his favorite student had the power to save the man in front of him. He couldn't be certain. Tom was very good at facades. "You are here for the job I see? Our recent professor retired only a few months ago and the ex-Auror who agreed to step in has decided to go on an impromptu cruise around the world with his wife. He sent his condolences and a very nice Muggle postcard". He gestured to a small image on one of his shelves of a tall, lean man in his mid-50's standing next to a blond woman on a sandy beach. His face was lightly scarred and he cut an imposing figure, probably would've frightened the children anyway.

"I suppose we should talk about qualifications?" Dumbledore suggested. "I already know about your NEWTS and OWLS but I would be interested to hear what other experience you may have".

Tom nodded in understanding before launching into his description, "Me and Heleus have been all around the world really. We've visited most of the Magical capitals as well as some very obscure locations. One of my personal favorites was a temple in Thailand run by a Buddhist Wizard. He taught us quite a lot of interesting things. I had learned so much and we believed it was finally time to return back home. To teach our learnings to the next generation of Wizards and Witches."

"You truly believed Hogwarts is your home?"

"Don't all your students?"

Dumbledore would've liked to believe so. He'd worked very hard from the time he'd first been employed here to create an environment that all of the students could learn to love. Hogwarts was quirky and unique, different from all other Magical schools. He'd wished to preserve that, enhance it. And he truly believed that the school was flourishing. The children were safe, happy and there was peace. Tom Riddle...he would change that.

Tom Riddle could charm his way into the minds of the most powerful and respectable witches and wizards. What would he do with a generation of young, impressionable children? It was impossible to know. He hadn't seen this man in so long he didn't know on what ground he stood anymore. It was too much of a risk.

"I'm sorry Tom, but I'm not sure I can accept your application".

* * *

"Lumos", Heleus whispered and the world came to life.

Shelves upon shelves of books and hidden treasures accumulated over hundreds of years. There was everything from empty bottles of contraceptive potions to tomes of magic long forgotten, probably hidden years ago at the time of the founders by some desperate students trying to stay out of detention. It was truly a marvel.

He slipped his hand into his bag and pulled out the Diadem. It was made out of pure Goblin-wrought silver and embedded with sapphire jewels, each of which had various runes carved in an old indecipherable language. The same magic that thrummed through his ring were saturating the most prized possession of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Sometimes the magic that Tom wielded was magnificent and puzzling all the same. Things like this should be possible and yet... here he was.

They had found it in the hollow of a tree in the forests of Albania. It was far off the grid and it took a long while to get there but the triumph at getting the fifth Horcrux was worth it completely. There was only one to go.

Heleus quickly stashed it at the highest point of a stack of books and placed a protective and a proximity ward around it so they'd be warned as soon as somebody came within 3 meters of it. It wasn't likely but it could always happen. The protections froze the trespasser and would throw them quite forcefully away from the area. That was only the first warning before things got _really_ messy.

He left the room and headed out to where he agreed to meet Tom at the gates. When he arrived the man was in a foul mood and it wasn't hard to guess why.

"What was his excuse?" Heleus drawled.

"He said the job wouldn't suit my temperament or my lifestyle. I could tell he was very cautious. I tried to flash him my ring to ease his mind but it didn't work. I was thinking we could leave him a gift behind. Something to make his life a lot harder", Tom smirked mischievously.

"We could always try Nemesis, Goddess of Revenge. She had always been one of my favorites".

And so the Defence curse was born and it would be a long time before Hogwarts could hold a DADA teacher for longer than a year.

* * *

Heleus watched carefully from his position on the roof.

The streets of Diagon Alley were busy below him as people gathered, marching in groups and holding up flags with bright obnoxious colors and pathetic slogans proclaiming _Rights for Squibs_ and other such trash. Honestly, he hated it. 90% of Squibs chose to go live in the Muggle world, forsaking their culture and their families. Then they have the nerve to say that their lives aren't fair. Didn't they understand that there was a reason some people weren't born with magic? Didn't they understand that, although they couldn't use a wand, they could still be useful to society? Squibs could own stores, work jobs in certain parts of the ministry and even become Potions Masters! Sure they couldn't ever be in the Wizengamot or any upper-class position but really most of the Wizarding population didn't make it that far anyway. They could live their lives as normal civilians if they just stopped their silly protesting.

His eyes tracked the movements of the crowd below and he spotted wild curly black hair hidden behind a dark hood. He recognized her immediately. The newest recruit to the movement that Tom liked to call the _Death Eaters._ They would always have the Knights, of course, but the Death Eaters were there to strike fear into the hearts of the people. The warriors in the revolution. This particular young lady was called Bellatrix Black, soon to be Lestrange if her Betrothal contract went through. She was the eldest of Cygnus' three daughters and by far the most vicious, perfectly suited to her role. There was also Andromeda, a free spirit who reminded him far too much of Lucretia, and Narcissa who always seemed very strict and reserved to him, she never strayed once from her Pureblood training and her mask was ironclad.

She weaved her way through the clouds until she was in the center, standing just behind Stanley Pearce the Pro-Squib advocate from the Department of the Regulation of Magical Creatures. She looked up, her lavender grey eyes meeting his in mid-day sun with the gleam of rabid insanity already building to a crescendo within them. Bellatrix certainly wasn't one to be restrained, all she was waiting for was the signal.

He reached over his shoulder and pulled out one solid silver arrow from his quiver then aimed his bow towards the window of Slug and Jiggers where an innocent looking blue potion sat on a shelf. A flick of his wand and the end of the bow was lit up with blue, inextinguishable flames. Steadying his aim he closed one of his eyes and took a deep breath, then he released. The arrow traveled quickly through the air, whistling along the breeze. As soon as it hit the window it smashed straight through it bashing into the bottle and the flames exploded outwards in a swirling tornado of fire. The crowds were blown off their feet, smashing into the windows and walls with immense bone-breaking force.

Bellatrix, having known already what was to come, had cast spells to stick her feet to the ground and shields to stop the blast. She used the time gained from the chaos to grab hold of Stanley Pierce and to cast one well-aimed curse straight to his heart. His blood boiled throughout his body within a second and he dropped dead to the floor. Then she turned with the speed and agility of a cat and drove her wand to the floor, sending a bright purple pulse of Dark magic out into the air and incinerating the bones of at least 6 people within the vicinity.

He could see now exactly why she was Voldemort's favorite Death Eater.

The man himself strode down the center of the alleyway like a God. His now completely red eyes were bright and malevolent. The crowd parted for him almost instantly and as he heard the pops of apparition and saw the groups of crimson-robed Aurors entering the zone he knew the battle was only just beginning.

With one quick motion, his bow compacted itself into one single pole of metal and stored itself away in his quiver. He used his arms to haul himself up and, in a moment of bravery, fling himself over the edge of the roof where he landed solidly on both legs.

His eyes zoned in on the first girl, she was 16 and sobbing over the body of her dead father. Tears streaming down her face and clothes ripped and bloodied. He hurried over to her and pulled her into his arms and away from the man's body. She squirmed and screamed trying to get away and he leaned down and grabbed her face to pull her into a long forceful kiss. He watched in fascination as the life left her eyes and her magic seemed to leave her mouth in white wisps of smoke. Now, with his magic fully charged and feeling completely empowered, he strode through the center of the madness to meet his foes on the battlefield.

For the first time that day he pulled his wand from the holster on his bicep, brandishing it in the air before him and sending one long chain of curses that ripped through the bodies before him. The remorse that he would've once felt now completely gone in the face of war.

Tom's eyes met his and seemed to light up at his presence, a large smirk flickering across his face at the sight of his blood-covered lover surrounded by the dead. Lord Voldemort, as he was now popularly known, always did have a bit of an infatuation for death.

People dropped like flies, men, women and children. They were, of course, selective. Nobody would leave without injury but some were specifically chosen to either live or die. This event had been planned for months ahead.

He came up beside Bellatrix and arched a brow at the glee written all over her face as she repeatedly cast the Cruciatus on an Auror. "My Lord!" she shouted happily as she let go of the curse and stumbled towards him, trying to smooth the knots out of her hair.

"Do you have a body count?" he inquired and she wrinkled her nose. "Thaddeus Nott should.." she let out a mad cackle as she released a stunner at a small girl who had just been waking up from her pain-induced slumber. She slumped to the ground immediately after.

He nodded to himself and drifted to Tom's side. "Don't you think Dumbledore would be so proud of his little protégé?" the Dark Lord declared.

He chuckled to himself and thought back to one of the first few conversations he'd had with the old man. He'd told him from the beginning that he wanted to change the world, it wasn't his fault Dumbledore had decided to misinterpret his message.

* * *

Regulus Black had made a mistake.

Growing up in the House of Black had been hard. His brother, Sirius, had always been a failure in his mother's eyes and so it was expected of him to one day step in as Heir when the boy was inevitably disowned. It was his job to be the Epitome of Pureblood skill, etiquette and intelligence, forever having to prove himself to be better than his brother.

He'd been sorted into Slytherin, as expected, and made friends with all of the other Pureblood Heirs. He'd taunted the Mudbloods and spread propaganda in-between intense study sessions. He'd never sullied himself by hanging around with Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs and nobody of lower status. He had a few friends in Ravenclaw but they mainly helped with his study group. The only friend he had who could be deemed as unworthy was Severus Snape but he'd easily proven himself as a Master of Potions and the Dark Arts. He was also Heir to the Prince line although that fact had never been disclosed to the public.

When his slightly mad cousin Bellatrix had approached him with the idea of joining the Death Eaters at the age of 16 he'd agreed immediately.

This was what he was raised to do, what he wished to fight for. 2 weeks later he had a brand new tattoo on his left forearm in the shape of a snake and skull. It acted as a Portkey, he could be pulled from his school at any time and have to participate in all manners of illegal affairs.

He didn't regret a thing.

Until he'd met her.

Her name was Meredith Antoinette. Her family had only moved to Britain around 300 years ago so they weren't at Noble or Ancient status yet so although she was of Pureblood lineage she was technically considered his inferior. But she was so so beautiful. She had long curly brown hair and deep blue eyes. Her skin was tanned like gold and she always wore the same lip gloss, cherry red. He wondered if it tasted like cherry too.

She was a Gryffindor but she didn't have many friends there. Occasionally she'd study with Remus Lupin, apparently, they'd met on the train, but she'd be as far away as possible when he was with his other friends. She read a lot but not for study. Muggle novels and poetry were her favorites and he'd often hear her humming unfamiliar songs as she read or drew by the lake. Severus had caught him staring a fair few times and had berated him but it did nothing to stop him.

One day he approached her in the library.

"Who's Jane Eyre?" he asked as he slipped into the seat opposite her.

She looked up from behind the pages and eyed him with trepidation, "A governess. It's a Muggle novel." She said the word Muggle as if she expected him to suddenly recoil in disgust. He snagged the book from between her hands, ignoring the glare he received, and started reading the blurb.

"It seems interesting", he said sagely before placing it back in front of her. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend".

She slowly slipped the book back into her bag, keeping full eye contact the whole time so that she didn't miss any of his movements. "Mr. Black", she started in a stern voice. "I'd like to make two things clear. The first, I am no cheat, don't expect me to do your work for you just because you take me on a date and give me nice flowers. The second, I am no two-bit whore and I certainly won't be getting on my knees for the likes of you anytime soon".

He smiled, "I'd like to think I'm smart enough to do my own work, Mademoiselle Antoinette".

"I'll meet you at the gate then", she confirmed before turning back to her book.

Their date went well, very well. And there were many many dates after that. He'd fallen in love with her from their very first kiss and although they kept their relationship secret it was amazing for the both of them. And then she took his shirt off and she saw _it_ standing out on his forearm. The sign of a Death Eater.

She'd hit him. Hard.

Then she hadn't talked to him for a month until one day she'd seen an article in the Daily Prophet about a Death Eater attack and somehow she just _knew_ he was involved. She'd come to him in the dead of night and kissed him whilst sobbing at the same time and she'd told him, with absolute certainty, that wherever he went she would follow.

That thought was terrifying. The fact that she loved him so strongly, just as much as he did her, that she was willing to go to the Dark Lord. Willing to turn her back on her family. Part of him was pleased. The other part knew that he couldn't possibly let that happen.

Not in a million years.

The opportunity came one evening when the Dark Lord himself had requested the use of his house-elf, Kreacher, for some kind of job. When the elf got back it'd been completely traumatized and told him everything about the events that had transpired. That evening he found out about Horcruxes and that the Dark Lord had made one. He vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took to destroy it. For Meredith.

"Regulus?" he turned at the sound of a voice from where he was stood at the entrance hall just about to leave. The Death Eater meeting had just finished and they'd been discussing their progress within the Ministry of Magic.

He recognized the voice of the Dark Lord's consort. Heleus Slytherin was what they'd been told his name was but most people just referred to him as their Lord and nothing more. To the outside world he was nameless, faceless, the Dark Lord's most prized assassin. Sometimes he'd take down his victims with an arrow to the throat or a sword in the back and other's he'd kiss his victims and leave them dead in a way that was comparable to a Dementor sucking your soul out. He looked young, probably no older than thirty but with emerald green eyes that showed knowledge far beyond his appearance and he always dressed to complete perfection. His accent was odd, a mix between something European and a typical British Aristocrat. He'd learned about him vaguely from his father but he'd never really met him before he first started attending Death Eater meetings.

He seemed genuinely kind.

That, to Regulus, made him a hundred times more terrifying.

"You seem stressed. Is it your family? I haven't had a proper conversation with them in a while..." he trailed off looking wistful.

"No my Lord, my family is perfectly fine unless you count Sirius. You remember how he ran off to the Potter's a few years ago", he spat the name like a disease. "Well, now Mother is all in a tizzy about disowning him and Betrothal contracts. There was one being lined up between him and one of the Fawley daughters but now he's gone and she doesn't quite know what to do about it all. Does she cancel the contract and revoke his Heirship or does she hold it off at the risk of everything? I don't think I've ever seen her so stressed in my life".

The man seemed to wince imperceptibly, "Yes I remember Walburga seemed to get very vocal when she got stressed. Screamed like a banshee that woman. Anyway, it was very nice catching up".

Regulus nodded and as he went to leave he didn't notice the man's eyes narrow in suspicious, nor the subtle tracking charm that was sent his way.

* * *

Heleus arrived at the cave merely 2 minutes after Regulus did.

He smelled the blood on the stone before he saw it. He waved his hand to the side, the wards automatically recognized him and let him in without the normal sacrifice required and so he entered into the gloomy darkness and approached the edge of the lake just in time to see Regulus boarding the boat alongside his house elf.

"I wouldn't do that".

The man heard him and a look of abject shock and terror came over his face as he saw the wand of the other man slip into his hands. "My Lord...". The house elf trembled beside him.

"Don't", he interrupted loudly. "Save your excuses. We both know exactly why you're here."

Regulus sighed in defeat stepping out of the boat and letting himself sink to his knees in front of him. "Kill me. But please, save her".

He didn't know who _she_ was at all. But he could tell from his tone of voice that whoever this woman was she meant the world to him. He leaned down in front of Regulus and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I made a promise once, to your Aunt Lucretia". The man's eyebrows furrowed at the name of the aunt he'd never met. "I swore to her that I'd protect her family and it's a promise I intend to keep even now. You won't be dying today."

Regulus sagged in relief and let out a deep breath. "Thank you. How can I ever repay you?"

"You can leave", Heleus replied bluntly. "I'll offer you the same deal I gave your Aunt. Whoever _she_ is. Take her and run. I don't expect to see you ever again and I swear if you speak about what's in this cave to any living being I will kill you and _her_ in a heartbeat. Do you understand?"

He nodded quickly and was pulled to his feet. He looked back one more time before the house-elf took his hand and they popped away. Heleus was left standing in the dark cave on his own. His eyes drifted to the water as he heard it begin to splash and swirl. He was startled completely thinking that it had been warded against any sort of animal getting in. He stepped close to the edge of the water and leaned down to view what was beneath.

He knew it was a stupid move the second he did it.

A hand reached out and grabbed him tightly around the wrist, wrenching him into the pull and trying to drag him under. He yanked out his wand and started firing off spells in crazy succession. Flames hit the hands but they failed to release their tight grip as he was fully submerged under the dark gloomy water and his lungs began to fill with fluid.

* * *

Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort as he was now known, was broken.

Something inside of him had snapped completely after Heleus had failed to return for at least 3 days, something that had never happened before. He knew, deep inside, that his lover was dead.

He didn't know how long it would take for him to come back, or even if the ritual had worked at all. Could he be lost forever?

When one of his followers, Severus Snape, came to him days later with news of a mad prophecy and the baby that would cause his defeat the numb pain he felt was filled with rage. He wouldn't die, he wouldn't let everything him and Heleus had worked for fall to ruin.

He would avenge his lover.

Harry Potter was going to die.


	6. Chapter 6

**A Deathly Kiss**

 **Chapter 6 -** Privet Drive and Beyond

His death was, quite possibly, the most anticlimactic in history. He'd killed people in much more dramatic ways.

How was it that Heleus Slytherin, the Dark Lord's consort, his most prized assassin, could just be killed by an inferius? Drowned to death in a dark lake in the middle of nowhere? It should be impossible.

But no, it happened.

And less than ten minutes after he died, or at least that's what it felt like, he came back to life again. Except for this time his body was much smaller and much more fragile. Almost like a child... He looked around and saw the large white wooden bars of a cot and knew it to be true. The roof of the was burning from the impact of a spell and the night sky was clearly visible, even with his now blurry eyesight.

He looked around the rest of the room and his eyes were almost instantly drawn to the body on the floor beside the crib. She was a young woman, probably around 20, with stunning auburn hair and gleaming emerald eyes that were permanently frozen in shock and horror. Another thing he noticed was the dark cloak lying in the center of the room without any obvious owner, within its folds he saw the unmistakable form of a wand handle.

He gathered as much magic as he could, which wasn't very much baring in mind wandless magic had always been Tom's forte rather than his, and managed to push the bars of the crib downwards so that he could pull his weak body out and across the room until he reached the wand. As soon as it came into contact with his childish fingers he recognized it for exactly what it was. 13 and a half inches, yew, phoenix feather core. Something in his heart lurched as he frantically clutched at the robes, they were embroidered with faint snakes in a dark almost black color of green. He recognized these as something he'd given the man himself not three years ago.

His head snapped to the side as he started to reassess the dead woman with new eyes.

Lily Potter.

They had a file on members of Dumbledore's so-called Order of The Pheonix back at the headquarters. She was labeled as one of the key members alongside her husband, the Longbottoms and a few other influential families. And here she was, dead. Presumably alongside her husband. She was also, apparently, his mother.

The thought made him shudder imperceptibly. This woman wasn't his mother, not at all. Perhaps her DNA went into building this new body that he now seemed to inhabit, something that he hadn't predicted when they enacted that ritual oh so many years ago, but she would never be his real family.

His mother was a woman by the name of Antheia Andrea. A beautiful Greek woman with golden skin and golden hair to match. She was smart and cunning and a complete free spirit. He still remembered the times she used to sing around the villa and introduced him to the animals outside. She always spoke with a calm tone and an ever knowing glint in her eyes. She raised him and she was some of the only true family he ever had, not this _imposter._

A door downstairs crashed open and he dropped the wand immediately, crawling back along the floor to the crib and securing the bars back in place with his magic. Merlin this body disgusted him.

The door was blown open and he was met with quite the interesting sight indeed, Severus Snape, supposedly loyal Death Eater, with a sweaty panicked face that turned into horror as soon as his eyes fell on the woman. He collapsed to the floor and gathered her into his arms, clutching her as he let the tears blow flow down his face mumbling words of apology and sorrow. It was only when he calmed that he seemed to notice him in the room.

It must've been a shocking sight, a small child clutching the bars of his crib with an intense gaze that should never have belonged to someone so young. The baby shed no tears, only watched in curiosity and fascination at the scene before him.

The man laid the woman down slowly and gently and placed one long kiss on her forehead before leaving the room with a flourish of his robes.

It didn't take long for more visitors to arrive, this time in the form of an even more familiar figure.

If he wasn't so sure the man had already fled the country, he'd be certain the man before him was Regulus Black. Common sense told him that this was instead his brother Sirius, Heir, or soon to be ex-Heir, of the House of Black. Auror robes denoted his position in the ministry and he looked equally as distraught as the man before him, probably from just seeing the dead body of his friend James downstairs.

The man leaned down, laid a kiss to Lily's forehead just as Snape had before, and used two fingers to close her eyelids in a sign of respect.

Then he came for the crib and leaned down to pick him up, clutching him close to his chest, "Don't worry Harry. Uncle Padfoot's going to take care of you". He pulled him away slightly and Heleus got the first glimpse of his eyes and felt a small tinge of pain at the sight of them. They were just like Lucretia's. He knew this man would care for him, the House of Black always pulled through.

He yawned widely as his small body suddenly became weaker and tiredness began to set in. Sleep claimed his body just then as he fell asleep in the arms of Sirius Black.

He dreamed about dark water and drowning and the charming smile of Tom Riddle that he'd somehow managed to fall in love with.

* * *

Whilst the Wizarding World was celebrating over the defeat of the Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledore sat in his office in contemplative silence.

Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort as he proclaimed himself to be, had gone after the Potter Family as directed by the prophecy and killed both Lily and James in cold blood. Miraculously, young Harry had managed to survive the attack and had been named the _Boy-Who-Lived_ by the Daily Prophet as soon as the news broke out.

He shed a tear for the young man and woman, taken so young from this world. Both of them were kind, smart and so devoted to their family that they were willing to die for their child. It was heartbreaking. But Dumbledore couldn't let it get to him, the public was looking to him for guidance and he couldn't let emotion cloud his judgment at times like these.

First on his list of worries was Tom Riddle himself. Nobody had been found and the fact that his wand had been left behind made it certain that his body had been destroyed but Dumbledore knew that the man would return with a vengeance one day and he'd need to keep his Order prepared for the day when that came.

Death Eaters had started being caught left right and center, resistance was minimal in the face of the destruction of their Lord and the coming months would be filled with the trials and executions of some of the worse offenders. He already knew from his contacts at the Ministry that Lucius Malfoy and the like were trying to plead the Imperius curse and with the political power they had they'd probably be believed. He felt sickened that a man like that would still roam the streets after all that he'd done.

Another worry that he had was for his old student, Heleus Vasilikas. The Dark Lord's Consort. The man hadn't been sighted for months and he hadn't even resurfaced when it was announced his Husband was dead and he now knew it was very likely he'd met his own demise. He felt deeply saddened by this. Heleus had always been one of his favorite students, intelligent and passionate about his studies. He'd always been fascinated with the obscure and the unknown and he'd found common interest with his old Professor many years ago. Their conversations were some of the highlights of his career and he hated that couldn't stop him falling to the dark. Sometimes he wondered whether he could still be saved...

No. It wouldn't do to dwell.

The final, and by far the most important worry at the time, was concerning young Harry Potter. The only person in history to have been hit by the Killing Curse and _survived._ It was extraordinary yet he knew there must be something else at play.

He'd had Hagrid collect the child from the Potter's as soon as possible and was brought to Hogwarts for a medical scan that showed his body suffered minimal trauma from the curse however there was some magical residue left on him. Some Dark centered predominantly around the scar and the rest was a light white bubble surrounding his body like a shield, it was attacking the Dark magic like an antibody. However, the light magic was fading and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get it to stop.

The magic was his mothers. Ritualistic. Sacrificial. Something that hadn't been performed for centuries and would probably be considered evil in this day and age. Who could blame her? The lengths a mother would go for her child were extreme. The magic itself could only be maintained by blood and the only living person of Lily Potter's blood was her sister. Petunia Dursley.

Minerva McGonagall had been watching the Dursley household all day and the results she'd brought back weren't promising.

They were rude and selfish and 'the worst possible type of Muggles there is'. He couldn't, in good conscience, send a child there. But what option did he have? Sirius Black, his Godfather, had dropped off the face of the earth and it was still unclear if he really did betray the Potters. He couldn't place Harry with the man only to find him a traitor after all.

Remus Lupin, another close friend of the Potter's, was a caring and gentle man but due to his status as a Werewolf, the ministry would never accept him as the guardian of their new _savior._

Most of the Order members were preoccupied trying to clean up the mess of war to care for a young child.

Right now, Petunia Dursley was his only option. He sighed in resignation and started to pen a long letter to the woman, hoping to appeal to the kind side of her that he'd seen in that letter years ago. He flooed Arabella Figg, a Squib friend of his, and asked if she could move to Surrey and keep an eye on the boy. This way he'd know if any harm came to him. Then he headed to the hospital wing to collect Harry Potter and take him to what would hopefully be a loving home.

* * *

Harry Potter was now six years old. That was the age he'd set as a guideline.

He'd wait till he was six years old and in that time he'd attempt to build up his basic skills. Reading, writing, walking and even something as basic as using the toilet were all complicated to do in this new body and he was determined to make sure he wouldn't make a fool of himself when he inevitably tried to go back to the Wizarding World.

Those six years were hard.

He'd fallen asleep in the arms of Sirius Black but woken up in a completely unfamiliar space. A dark room covered in cobwebs and saturated with the smell of mold. It was disgusting. He'd soon learned he was in the oh so _loving hands_ of Lily Potter's sister, Petunia. A Muggle. A filthy disgusting Muggle who felt it appropriate to treat _him_ like he was the scum of the earth. They'd made him cook and clean and near enough starved him, all the while telling him how much of a freak he was. How he was unnatural and should never have been born. He felt a sudden rush of sympathy for Tom. If this was what life was like in that Orphanage it was no wonder he'd turned into a homicidal maniac. No offense to him, of course.

Now at the age of six, he had also basic functions mastered and had minimal control over his magic. It was time he broke free from this hellhole.

His wandless magic was useless so he relied on the only magic he could use, which just so happened to be his specialty.

He stole a knife from the kitchen in the middle of the night and sterilized it completely to risk infection. Then in the early hours of the morning, he'd taken the knife to his forearm and started making shallow cuts along the skin. Enough to draw blood. He carved the runes and symbols required for an old form of the notice-me-not charm which would allow him to blend into the crowds without any attention being drawn to him. They glowed briefly before the wounds healed and dulled until the inscriptions were merely raised red scars. He then used the knife to carve a circle in the floor with his own blood.

After a while, he sat back and admired his work. A curse, placed within the walls of this house meaning that the blood of those inhabiting it would slowly turn to poison. It would happen over years and by the time they realized what was happening it'd be far too late.

He left the cupboard, not bothering to even pack his pitiful amount of personal objects, and headed to the front door. Once outside he activated the runes on his arm and headed for Diagon Alley.

The trek took hours, both because of his short legs and how different the London streets looked from this angle. He also toom adequate amounts of time to sneer at the Muggle's that walked past. The Leaky Cauldron wasn't really open for business yet but the owner always left the door open so people could come and go through the Alley as it was one of the few main entrances besides the floo. He headed quickly through the quiet streets and up to Gringotts where he knew the Goblins would welcome him with welcome arms.

Despite public opinion, he and Tom had always been pro-creature. Magic was just Magic after all and the only problem they had was with those who tried to reject their true heritage or taint it with that of the Muggle's. They'd approached many creatures like Werewolves, Vampires and Veelas all of whom had agreed with their propositions and rather than take an active role in the war had signed a treaty to show that they would neither attack nor assist either side of the war unless it was in self-defense. It also agreed that when the Dark Lord came into power he'd abolish all laws restricting magical creatures except for those that dealt with the traitors and those without clans.

The Goblins were always an independent state from the Wizards, only dealing with their money and never their politics. However, the promise from Tom to help return as many Goblin made items into their possession and to allow Goblins to practice their own form of magic, something which had been deemed illegal by the ministry, they were now on quite amenable terms. Certainly more so than the rest of the public.

The teller at the desk looked down at him with a sneer underlined with curiosity.

"Yes?" he growled.

"I wish to see the Potter account manager about an inheritance test".

The Goblin glared but then nodded sharply and pressed some sort of device. Soon after another Goblin came to bring him to the room. The door was mahogany and had the Potter seal painted upon it. Inside sat a short and particularly menacing looking Goblin with a placard reading Razortooth. He immediately pushed forward a piece of parchment and a silver knife.

Heleus bowed slightly in respect for taking his seat before him and slitting his palm, letting the blood drip onto the parchment and watching the words begin to form. He started to read.

 _ **Name:** Harrison (Harry) James Potter_

 ** _Mother:_** _Lily Jasmine Potter_

 ** _Father:_** _James Fleamont Potter_

 _ **Titles:**_ _Heir to the House of Black, Heir to the House of Potter_

The list went on to show various facts and figures about his bloodline and then proceeded to draw a family tree dating back at least a few centuries. Razortooth snatched the parchment before he could read in more detail. Suddenly a frown came over his face and he slid the paper back across to him.

"Before we begin", he said in a sharp and cutting tone. "You should explain why your blood identifies you as Harry Potter whilst your magic says you're someone completely different.

His eyes snapped back down to the parchment where the words kept on fading in and out between Harry Potter and Heleus Vasilikas over and over again. He sighed deeply, "I assume you'd be aware of Magics of the Soul?"

The goblin nodded with a sneer on its face, "I am. It's very unlikely that a _wizard_ would survive one of the rituals if that's what you're implying".

"Wizards can be a lot stronger than you might think", he stated. "And besides, the paper states who I am and I can assure you I quite surpass my reputation".

The Goblin grimaced in distaste but nodded once before setting the paper on fire to dispose of it. He cleared his throat with a stiff movement then continued, "As Heir to the Potter and Black lines you have full access to the family vaults. You cannot, however, claim the titles until you reach the age of your majority at 17, neither can you claim your Wizengamot seat or have any control over family contracts. You also have complete access to your trust fund which currently contains 30,000 Galleons and will be topped up every year till the age of your majority at 17. This account cannot be removed from you if you are disinherited however the family vaults can." He cleared his throat once again. "As you have been identified legally in the eyes of the Goblin state as Heleus Vasilikas you have the right to any vaults and titles you may have. The title of Heir Vasilikas was denied by you and was passed on, at the time, to the current Lord of the House, Idas. This title cannot be reobtained unless some accident was to befall your whole family and you were the only one left of the Bloodline". At this Razortooth gave a particularly vicious smirk which Heleus tried to ignore. He remembered Idas, Deon's older brother. He was intelligent enough and his aspirations had always been of the political kind. The House was in good hands.

"Seeing as Tom Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort, is currently inactive you do have access to the vaults of both Slytherin and Gaunt which have over the years been sufficiently replenished and do house some heirlooms. The money is to be left in the vault but you may take any heirloom under the conditions that you do not attempt to sell or damage them in any way and that your ownership is purely on a temporary basis. Any vaults under either the name of Heleus Vasilikas or Tom Riddle alone are at your full disposal. This is all effective immediately." He slid a sheet of paper listing all of the vaults that he was the owner of and he raised his eyebrow at the amount but didn't say anything.

The Goblin then rapped on the table and a small door at the side opened up, allowing a house elf to enter holding a silver box which it placed on the table gently before scuttling off. The Goblin popped it open to show the rings displayed within. "These are the family rings deemed accessible to you at the moment by Gringotts". He gestured to the rings and he looked through questioningly. He recognized the Potter and Black but he was drawn to the two at the end immediately. The first was what could be deemed as his engagement ring but was first and foremost a Horcrux. The second was the ring denoting him as the Lord Consort to the House of Slytherin. He had worn them both with pride throughout his previous life. "All Gringotts registered rings return to their vault upon their owners to death to ensure they aren't lost."

Heleus slowly slipped his hand into the box and pulled out first the Potter and Black rings he slipped them both onto one of his fingers and watched in fascination as they both combined to create one flawless ring. The last two he knew you couldn't display quite so publicly so instead requested a golden chain which he slipped the bands onto and fastened around his neck, hidden under his ratty clothes so that nobody could see.

He was also given a single key which he was told would magically change its shape to fit into the locks any of the vaults he owned.

He nodded his thanks to the Goblin who ignored him completely and headed down to peruse through his vaults. He claimed various Heirlooms including a few swords and daggers as well as a new bow and arrow stowed away at the back of the Black Vault. It was quite stylish and made completely out of solid gold. He also collected the money he thought he'd need and left the bank with a small charmed bag filled to the brim with treasures.

He then spent the next few hours shopping around Diagon Alley finding what else he needed. Clothes and supplies were on his list but at the top were potions ingredients for a ritual he was hoping to perform. He could, of course, just continue aging in this body as normal but it would be far too strenuous and certainly wouldn't suit his plans. Instead, he wished for a way to split his body into two forms which he could change between at will. One, the body of Harry Potter that would age normally, the other of Heleus Vasilikas as he was before he died. It would make life a lot easier for him in the long run.

He quickly gathered all of his things and started leaving the Alley and out into streets of London once more. He got about 5 blocks before he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a kind looking man standing behind him dressed in a dark blue tunic with polished silver buttons. "Are you lost?"

He shook his head slowly and smiled sweetly at the man in a way only a child could, "No sir. I'm meeting my parents at a cafe down the road".

The man eyed him in suspicion then sighed, standing up straight whilst keeping a firm grip on his shoulder, "I have to hand it to you kid you're a very good liar". He started to pull him down the road back towards Charing Cross where he was led into a large stone building with a front that reminded him somewhat of Greek architecture. It would never compare of course.

He was pulled inside and sat down on an uncomfortable wooden chair. The building was busy and many similarly dressed men and women were rushing around. He watched as one man was pulled through the door with his hands bound together and a scowl on his bloody and disheveled face. It was then that he realized just where he was. The Muggle equivalent of the Auror department. Perhaps he should've taken Muggle studies at school after all.

The man came back with a tall dark-skinned woman in a blue pantsuit. She had a large kind smile on her face and took a seat beside him, pulling out a large sheet of parchment or something similar and starting to write with an odd contraption. "My name's Nora", she said slowly, "would you like to tell me yours?"

This was the beginning of his delightful foray into the Muggle foster care system. It would be an interesting experience indeed.

* * *

Harrison Potter, or Harry as he preferred to be called, was a delightful child in her eyes.

Edith Murray was a woman of about fifty-years-old and all the signs that came with age. Graying hair, wrinkles, the whole lot.

Her two daughters had left her home at least 6 years ago now and to pursue their own families and careers. She felt so lonely with them gone and knowing she could never have her children again she'd resigned herself to a life on her own knitting baby clothes to store away for if and when she had some Grandchildren to fawn over.

Then one of the women at her local crafts group had told her about the adoption and the foster care system. Apparently, her son and daughter-in-law were having trouble conceiving and were in the process of trying to adopt a little girl. She knew at her age it would be impossible to adopt a baby and raise it to fully grown but perhaps there was a sweet babe to occupy her heart for the time being.

She'd already taken care of one girl for three months by the name of Phoebe. She was bright and bubbly, always wanting to dress up and play games. She always called her Missus Murray with that adorable lisp and could use her puppy dog eyes she could get anything she wanted out of you. Edith had loved her, truly, but alas a young couple had come along wanting to adopt a child and her temporary care was over. Every few weeks she would receive a little hand-drawn image of a pretty suburban house or a little dog scrawled in bright yellow crayon. She cherished them but they weren't quite the same as those times when she'd sit down with the girl and help draw the pictures herself.

It didn't take her long before she got another foster child into her care.

Harry was described by his social worker, Nora, as very shy but extremely intelligent. He'd floated around various orphanages and foster homes over the last few years, at the age of 10 not many people wanted to adopt him anymore and he instead had to rely on people like her to have a real childhood. He'd been found wandering the streets at the age of 6 and had almost got away from the police officer when they pulled him in and set him up with Nora. She'd taken him to a small orphanage outside of the city that had many children his age for him to play with.

He'd spent most of his time in his room and away from the others, always with his head in one book or another. When the carers there talked to him he always replied in perfect sentences and that could almost be perceived as adult if it weren't for the childish pitch of his voice. He aced all of his classes and never fussed or complained. He was a little angel. Yet somehow he never lasted more than 6 months in one place at a time. When questioned, people would always remain tight-lipped over why they wanted him to leave.

Edith couldn't for the life of her guess what was wrong with him.

He was charming, polite. A complete genius and she was considering whether it was appropriate to talk Nora into getting him a place at a private school. Perhaps it would be a good option for him. He'd spend most of the year there with people of similar intellect and not have to worry at all about where he lived or who his new guardian was.

No there was nothing wrong with Harry.

At least that's what she thought. But then one day she'd come home early from her crafts group, she'd left Harry alone fully confident that he could mind the house by himself. He was very responsible after all. She'd shouted up the stairs for him to come and get the cake she'd bought from the bakery. Then she'd shouted again, this time a bit wary. Maybe he'd just fallen asleep. Something inside of her knew it wasn't true. No matter what day it was, Harry always woke up at seven and went to be at eight. He didn't do naps.

She crept up the stairs quietly and opened up the door to the small room at the end of the corridor, it used to be her guest room and was painted in appropriately neutral colors with a few astronomy posters on the wall that Harry had seemed particularly interested in.

What she saw when she entered scared the life out of her. There was her little Harry, knelt in the middle of the floor and clutching a sharp object in his left hand. The carpet was covered in red. Not just any red. It was blood. The vomit was already halfway out her throat when she spotted something beside him. It was a human arm, ripped from the socket and torn to shreds.

It was still twitching.

She didn't notice as the boy walked towards him and lifted his hands to her head. The world went blank.

When she woke up the next day she didn't remember anything of the previous day, that didn't seem unusual to her at all. All she knew was that she had to get rid of the Potter boy. He left a very odd feeling in her stomach and it wouldn't go away until his presence was purged from her home.

He moved out not long after.

* * *

Heleus hadn't planned on going into the foster system but when he'd met Nora it'd given him a perfect opening.

He couldn't just drop off the face of the earth and live out the next years as himself and not Harry Potter. People would ask questions. Where had he been? What had he been doing? Who had raised him?

The care home, although not particularly pleasant, seemed like a good option. He'd just blend into the background amongst the other kids and use whatever free time he had to prepare and hone his magic as best as possible. The carers couldn't split their time equally between _every_ child and if he didn't act as boisterous and noisy as the others then attention would never be drawn to him and when a Hogwarts representative eventually came they'd be told he was a shy child and nobody would be any the wiser about his less than legal pastimes.

They'd tried to pass him around, of course, find the young boy a nice loving home to care for him but it never lasted. He made sure of that. The families were always far too clingy. They wanted to be nice to him and work through his _trauma_. They all assumed that because he was an orphan found on the street that he had troubles and they were the only people in the whole wide world that could cure him. Imbeciles, the lot of them.

He'd try and stick it out for a while but when it became too much to bare he would always find a way to make them get rid of him. Usually, it was something like putting spiders in their bed or just making them feel so uneasy about him that they couldn't be in the same room without getting shivers down their spine.

Old Edith wasn't actually that bad out of all of them. She seemed content with leaving him to his work as long as they ate meals together and had at least a few decent conversations a day. Other than that he would 'read' in his room and she wouldn't ask questions. One day she'd gone out to her crafts meeting and he'd taken the time to head out into Muggle London and find himself an unwilling test subject. He'd switched into his other form, the one created by his ritual to look exactly like Heleus Vasilikas, by slipping the rings off the chain around his neck and switching them with the ones on his fingers. He'd taken a potion then whilst in that form used some blood to tie it to the rings, that way whenever he wore them he could change between the two. It was good because he knew he'd never lose them. He never went out without them.

He'd gone out to find a strong Muggle who he could use as a sacrifice. He needed a bicep, to symbolize physical strength, and an eye to improve his frankly abysmal eyesight. This body had definitely inherited the Potter blindness.

He was just finishing with the process when the blasted woman had walked in and seen him at work. He was very sorry that he'd had to obliviate her but it was his only choice. He couldn't let something like this get out, especially to the likes of Dumbledore. Nobody wanted to find out the Boy-Who-Lived was a murderer.

It was only 3 weeks before Harry Potter's 11th body on the thirty first of July. His own was the 8th of April but he hadn't celebrated it at all since his resurrection. It just didn't feel right without Tom. Soon he'd be taking his first official steps into the Wizarding World as their _savior._ He knew that all eyes would be upon him. And it was very very likely that Tom Riddle's spirit would find its way to Hogwarts. He knew the man was out there somewhere disembodied yet he didn't know where, all of the rituals he'd tried to find him had fallen short. They were able to place him in Eastern Europe but not even a specific country and he couldn't leave his position here to go out on an uncalculated limb. Tom was smart, he would have a plan and as soon as Heleus caught wind of it he'd be right on board. Until then it was best to stay away, to help build up his reputation as Harry Potter. Who knew how important this would be in the upcoming war? If he was a spy, he could effectively change the whole game. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, he had to take it.

Tom would understand, wouldn't he?

He felt a pang deep within his heart and took a deep breath. Just because he'd made a decision didn't mean it wasn't hard.

At the moment he was looking in a mirror, contemplating his own appearance. Fate seemed to be playing quite an annoying joke on him as it seemed to have chosen a body that was a paler and scrawnier version of his own. The features were more British and his hair was a complete mess but if you stood both of his forms next to each other one could at least see them as cousins if not more closely related.

This wouldn't do.

So he took a few drastic measures. First, he pulled a pair of scissors and started to snip away at the long hair he'd only just grown out so it couldn't be tied back in his signature look. Then he pulled a potion from his back pocket and started to massage it into his hair, the tips slowly started to turn a forest green and when his fringe flopped down in front of his eyes it was so striking that it bought one's attention away from his eyes. They were the same green as in his previous life, exactly the same. Some might be able to pass it off as being inherited by Lily Potter but for those that had known him, those that had looked into those eyes in their worst moments as their loved ones were ripped away, they belonged completely to the Dark Lord's Consort. One of the Darkest Wizards in European history. He then pulled out a pair of silver-rimmed glasses and placed them on his face, the lenses were just plain glass but they did have the effect of enhancing his resemblance to James Potter.

The rest of his body was fine. Regular meals and the strength ritual had made sure he was strong and no longer starving from the abuse of the horrid Muggle Dursleys. He was slightly above average height but he could tell he would never be the same height again and that didn't seem to bother him. With his increased metabolism he'd be able to start working on getting his old physique back. Running around the lake always seemed to work wonders.

All in all, he looked like a slightly shorter and marginally more rebellious version of James Potter. Exactly what he was aiming for. He mourned the loss of his hair but knew that as soon as he returned to his true form it would be restored once more.

He sat back down on the bed in the room of his most recent orphanage and waited. It wouldn't be long now.


	7. Chapter 7

**A Deathly Kiss**

 **Chapter 7 -** The Orphan

Albus Dumbledore had made a mistake.

He'd made many in his life, as was the nature of man, but this was one of the most grievous and it concerned Harry Potter.

He and Minerva McGonagall, his deputy Head Mistress and a close friend, were in the southernmost tower of the castle and were currently standing in a small locked room with three large windows overlooking the forests below. There was an old wooden table with a red leather chair seated behind it. On the table was a large book bound in dragon-hide and a seemingly empty pot of ink with an Augurey feather quill floating just above it. At the first signs of magic in a child, the quill would try to write within its pages and the book would then decide whether or not to allow this process depending on the strength of the magic. The Quill of Acceptance and The Book of Admittance had never once been proven wrong.

The two of them were waiting for midnight on the night of the 30th of June. On the first, 2 months before the start of the Autumn term, the book would officially stop writing names of potential students for the upcoming year. Usually, all of the names were written in the early years of the student's life but it was a tradition practiced by every Hogwarts Headmaster throughout time. When the clock struck midnight, Minerva would produce a different magical quill that would begin to scribe the addresses and letters for the next year.

A bell sounded and Minerva instantly walked towards the book and started scanning the list of names presented before her. Her eyebrows raised at a few before her eyes were drawn back to the Headmaster. "Shall we begin?" he asked jovially.

A stack of parchment was pulled out, each of them already had the assigned list of books and uniform, all that was required was the name of the recipient. Minerva tapped the quill and the first name was carefully written on the envelope. _Miss H. Abbott,_ along with the address for the Abbott family manor in Somerset.

The list continued with the occasional comment on various students names. They took care to include the information packets every time a Muggleborn's name was written down and to compound a list of houses to be visited personally. Then they reached the name they had both secretly been waiting for.

 _Mr. H. Potter_

But instead of the expected address, Number 4 Privet Drive, an entirely different one appeared. It instead read:

 _Mr. H. Potter_

 _Room 13_

 _St. Agatha's_

 _Harborne_

 _Birmingham_

Albus felt his heart stop and a million different conclusions ran through his head.

Death Eaters had gotten to him. But no he probably wouldn't be alive and certainly not in a Muggle Orphanage. The Dursley's were dead. They'd given Harry away. Harry had been taken from them because they were _unfit parents._

Which could mean abuse? What could that have done to a young child? He dreaded to find out. And after leaving the Dursley's he'd been taken to _Saint_ Agatha's. In his experience magic and Muggle religion didn't tend to go hand in hand. He still remembered his first years as Deputy Headmaster in the '20s and they'd had to deal with a traumatized child who they'd attempted to exorcize. The outcome had been horrific and the girl had never quite been the same again.

He needed to see Harry Potter. He needed to know how much _damage_ he had caused.

He turned to Minerva who had the swellings of anger on her face, "You told me, Albus, that the boy would be safe with his relatives!"

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry".

2 days later, letter in hand, Albus found himself on the steps of the orphanage wearing what could be considered as Muggle clothing albeit in some garish colors. His face was smiling outwardly but on the inside, he was beginning to get worried. The building was large and made out of red-brick, it resembled an old Victorian workhouse that had been updated until it seemed more like a Catholic convent. The children outside were all sitting by a large garden patch and were hard at work planting different flowers that were more suited to the winter seasons. He met a young woman on the front steps, her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she had a golden cross around her neck.

"Philip put the worm down", she admonished firmly in a stern voice before turning towards him. "You must be Mister Dumbledore", she said politely with a kind smile on her face. She turned towards the door and gestured for him to follow.

"Harry..." he started slowly, "What sort of child is he?"

The women kept walking, not looking back at him as they made their way through the winding corridors. All of the walls were cladded with wood to about halfway and the rest of was a stark white with no decoration bar the occasional cross or a picture of a Saint. "He prefers to be called Harrison". They turned a sharp left and he looked through a window in one of the doors where some children were all sitting writing away whilst a hawk eyes woman observed them. His guide noticed where his gaze had wondered, "We do offer classes to all of our children although a few have opted for mainstream education. Harrison has been here for about 5 months but its already very clear that he's the smartest at his age, perhaps even smarter than even the older students. I have no doubt that he'd be a valuable addition to your school. He is mostly quiet but when you do manage to leach conversation out of him he can have quite the temperament. Don't mind the backchat, he does it with everyone and its not very easy to teach him to stop, especially when we got him at such a late age".

She stopped in front of a door which, like all of the other children's rooms, had a numbered plaque and a picture of their name pinned beneath it. Harry's, or Harrison's, was his name written in bold calligraphy with a water colored painting of space in the background in various shades of blue, black and purple. Bright stars had been blended into the background as well.

The lady opened the door and offered a reassuring smile before letting him enter the room.

There were various other hand-painted pictures of stars along the wall and bookcase was full of large books with various different languages written on the spine. He drifted towards them and picked one up, written in Latin, about the human body.

"I'd put that down", came a sharp voice from the other side of the room and his eyebrows raised when he saw him.

The boy's voice was deep for his age, mature even, and although he did seem about average height his face lacked the childishness or the baby fat that would still be present among his peers. He had almond-shaped green eyes, _just like Lily Potter_ his mind supplied, hidden behind silver glasses and his hair was the typical pitch black of the Potter's and the crow's nest that usually sat on top of James' head had instead been cut and artfully spiked on the head of his son. The tips were an emerald green.

He was sitting on the bed with his legs crossed and a book in his lap. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt with words in an unfamiliar language written upon them. He was also wearing odd socks, one pink and the other a fluorescent orange. "The spine's falling apart and I'd hate to have to replace it", there was a note of mild warning.

Albus slipped it back and approached slowly. "You speak Latin?" he questioned curiously.

The boy nodded wisely, "Lots of languages have a basis in Latin. I know five languages in total but that's really because I have time to spare".

"Five?" Albus' eyebrows raised in surprise and Harry hummed in confirmation. "English was a given, Latin and Greek for the scriptures, French and Italian because I was bored. I stopped there because I didn't want to seem like too much of a show off".

Dumbledore smiled in amusement at the child's statement and took a seat on a chair opposite him, pulling a letter out of his suit pocket. "I wish to offer you a place at my school Mr. Potter".

"Is it a school for fashion Professor?" the boy asked with a blank expression on his face. "Because if it is they should really hire better teachers", his eyes slowly drifted up and down the brightly colored suit with an expression of disdain.

"No Mr. Potter", he chuckled. "It's a school for magic".

Harry had stood up and turned away before he even got a look at the expression on his face, he sat on the seat by the window and stared out at the road below. Dumbledore completely missed the look of vindictive glee. When he met the boy's eyes again, they showed confusion. "What does this mean sir?"

"It means that you're a Wizard Harry", he said softly. "As am I. There is a whole civilization out there made up of Wizards and other creatures which you are welcome to join if you wish it so". He pulled the letter out of his back pocket and handed it over to the boy in front of him. The boy opened the envelope, careful not to break the wax seal, and let the parchment slip out between his fingers. He started to read the first page, his eyes roamed over it once then once again for clarification.

* * *

Heleus could barely control himself as he let the contents of the parchment wash over him. He'd spent the last 10 years in relative solitude, waiting for the right moment for him to return to his home. Within his hands he held the key to the first step. Soon everything would fall into place.

He refolded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope.

"I require proof", he started, "before I decide to go anywhere with a complete stranger".

Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand and waved it in a simple motion, one of his boxes (the one that contained his notes and writings) picked itself up off the floor as small wooden legs grew out of it. The box started to scramble around the room like an excited dog and it took one tap on the head for it to sit obediently. It was a parlor trick really but Dumbledore smiled at it like it was a real living animal and scratched it on its lid. "Is that proof enough".

"I suppose it'll have to do."

"Great!" the man clapped his hands together happily. "Now, I must take you to buy your school equipment but before I go I must have a conversation with you", his face turned serious. "How did you end up in an orphanage?"

Heleus leaned back against the window with a creased brow and frowned before coming to a conclusion, "I ran away sir, from my relatives, they weren't exactly the best of guardians".

Dumbledores eyes softened with sadness, "Whilst you were there, did they happen to mention your parents at all?"

Something in Heleus' brain twitched with amusement but his face remained marred with sadness, "Yes Professor. I was informed on multiple occasions just how worthless they were. My father was a no-good drunk and my mother spent her time whoring herself out. They died in a car crash, high on drugs of some sort".

The man's eyes turned to anger and he leaned forward, "I knew your Mother and Father personally, dear child, and whatever your relatives said is millions of miles from the truth. Your mother was one of the smartest Witches of her age and your father was one of the bravest men I ever knew. They both fought for you till the very end."

Then Dumbledore proceeded to tell him a story about one of the Darkest Wizards in existence. How he'd come to the Potter's home one night and killed them, then when he'd turned his wand on their child and tried to kill him too the curse had backfired and the Dark Lord had died. All over the country people had rejoiced and the Boy-Who-Lived had been exulted for his deed in ridding the world of pure evil. Dumbledores tale was different than the ones he'd found in the old bins of Daily Prophet newspapers and seemed a lot more factual than fantasized but it still had the same basis. That basis was bullshit.

Heleus had felt Tom's magic so many times before, could still feel it now like a soft thrum in the form of the ring that lay upon his heart. What comforted and seduced him terrified the British public. It had the power to raze a whole city with fiendfyre that blazed for eternity, to force any proud being into complete submission. No child, no matter how strong, could possibly defeat him.

The public was wrong, Harry Potter had died that night. The Killing Curse had struck his body and pulled his soul from within it. The body should've died within 2 seconds after that. However, within that space of time, his soul had instead entered the body of the infant and his very presence had kept it alive.

The Boy-Who-Lived didn't exist, not really. That curse had hit its mark.

The Professor had allowed him some time to digest the news before announcing that they were heading to Diagon Alley in a somewhat subdued voice and Heleus had stood ready to follow continuing on, "If you would like I will escort you to Diagon Alley?"

Heleus smiled and nodded, "Of course sir it would be much appreciated. I'd like to do my shopping on my own, I prefer to maintain a certain level of independence".

Albus nodded in acquiescence, "I'll go inform the matron that we will be leaving shortly".

The last time he'd visited Diagon Alley was little over two weeks before but with the school shopping season starting it was a whole lot busier. Dumbledore had taken them into a back alley and apparated straight into the hear of the street outside of Gringotts. The streets were bustling with large groups of families dressed in wizard wear, children were staring in awe at the broomsticks on display in the windows and Muggleborns were wandering around in abject shock. Dumbledore led him up the steps to the bank and stopped just to the right of the doors. He pulled out 2 objects, one a key and the other a flat metal disk, both in stunning gold. He handed them over to the boy with a grand gesture, "The key is for your vault, it was left in my position many years ago by your parents and it's time it was returned to its rightful owner. The coin is so you can contact me, just tap it twice if you're in need of assistance or you'd like me to take you home." He smiled kindly, "I hope you enjoy your day Harry".

"I'm sure I will Professor", he took both items though he knew there was little use for either and walked slowly into the bank knowing the old man was watching him. As soon as he was inside and the door was closed he grasped the key in his hands and using all the strength and magic he could muster, broke it into two. The enchantments left it in a small blue cloud and he slipped it back into his pocket. He waited a few more minutes within the bank to ensure Dumbledore was gone before heading straight back out again.

The first place he wished to visit was Ollivanders for a wand.

His old wand was presumably at the bottom of a dark lake filled with inferi. It was 12", Blackthorn with a single golden hair from a Siren that had been collected in a small cove in Lefkada where the Sirens and Mermaids often dwelled when uninterrupted by Muggles. It must've been hell to get baring in mind just how violent Sirens could be. When they weren't enchanting you with their voices they were snarling and trying to rip you to shreds with their teeth. Quite horrible really.

He'd been coping for the last few years with a wand he'd picked up from Knockturn Alley, unregistered and thus untraceable but it really wasn't a suitable match and he needed a wand that could channel his magic and project it to his full ability. Only Ollivander could craft a wand as such.

He hurried down the alley and pushed open the door with a soft tingle of a bell. He'd never been inside the store of Europe's most famous wandmaker before. His own wand had been made by a Greek crafter in Athens who although was quite talented seemed to focus on decadence rather than power. He'd go to great lengths to collect mysterious materials regardless of the strength they had. He had been lucky that his wand suited him so well. Ollivander crafted wands of every variety to suit every person and each was always in pristine quality. His record was impeccable and his products sought after by many.

The man himself appeared from inside a cupboard and goggled at him with large eyes before drifting over. He smiled down at him, pushing his round glasses further up his nose and leaning down to get a better look. "Mr. Potter. I was wondering when you were going to visit my store". His pale wrinkly finger came forwards as if to touch his scar but with lightning fast reactions Heleus had caught the hand by its wrist and stilled it with an iron grip.

"I would appreciate if you didn't sir", he managed to grit out.

The man stared down at him with a look of imperceptible horror and stumbled back, wrenching his hand away. He said nothing for a minute before composing himself and looking down with wary eyes. "Of course not Mr. Potter". He snapped his fingers and a long tape measure zoomed out of his pocket and into the air, positioning itself as if ready for action. "Wand hand?"

"I'm ambidextrous", he replied as the tape measure starting measuring up and down his body, his legs, both arms and even in between his eyes. They suddenly snapped back into a tightly wrapped roll and flew into the wandmakers pocket once again.

The man hurried off into the corner and returned with a large stack of wand boxes, he passed the first to him. "Cypress and Dragon Heartstring, pliable. Quite good with defensive spells", he waved the wand and all of the paperwork on Ollivanders desk exploded into tiny little pieces. The man seemed unfazed and put the wand back in the box.

They tried out about 30 more wands before Ollivander let out a large sigh and headed off to the back of the shop, returning a few minutes later with a single box in red. He lifted the lid and handed it, handle facing away from him, to Heleus. He took the wand carefully and smiled at the sensations that burst through his veins, magic that hummed and danced along his skin in harmony with himself.

"Curious", Ollivander mumbled then an odd sheen passed over his eyes. "Or perhaps not".

"What is curious sir?" he asked quietly.

"11", holly and Pheonix feather. It just so happened that I sold a wand many years ago containing a feather from the exact same Pheonix as this one belonged to. That wand gave you that scar", something in the man's voice trembled minutely.

He flinched back, shook his head and gave a fake smile, "That'll be 8 Galleons Mr. Potter". And that was apparently that.

He left the shop with the wand clutched closely to his chest and a smile on his face at the thought that he and Tom's wands shared brother cores. It meant their magic was connected together and that sort of bond was immensely powerful. This wand was far better than his last. It felt like a piece of him. It felt like home.

He found his way across to the other end of the Alley where Madam Malkin's sat sandwiched between Flourish and Blotts and a small store which sold supplies to ministry employees. It was painted today in a bright purple and the doors were open wide to customers. When he went inside he found it to be mostly empty, a few women were browsing through the robes on the racks and a single boy was stood on a podium at the back of the store examining himself in a mirror.

Heleus started to get closer to him and paused when he recognized the features.

Slicked back, platinum blond hair and pale skin. He was tall with high cheekbones and pointy facial features, his eyes were a pale silver that flashed with arrogance when taking in his own appearance.

Everything about him screamed Malfoy.

He hadn't been aware that the Malfoy family had been expecting a new heir. Lucius was a loyal Death Eater quite high up in the ranks, he held all of the typical traits of his lineage and was a master manipulator who made the most of his position within the Wizengamot. He'd married Narcissa Black and together they'd become the perfect image for pureblood society. While he was never fond of the pair he did respect them to a degree. Their son, based on first appearances alone, was a spoilt brat.

He adjusted his glasses and looked down at his Muggle-style clothing with a grimace. His only solace was that they hadn't been touched by _Muggle hands._ In fact, he'd brought it from a new shop opposite Gambol and Japes that sold Muggle clothing crafted by Wizards to suit the new fashion style sweeping the nation. He didn't understand it but the jeans were at least comfortable and he picked the writing on the shirt himself. **_Η ζωή είναι σαν ένα αγγούρι, ο έναs το τρώει και δροσιστείτε, και ο άλλος το τρώει και ζορίζετε._ Life is like a cucumber, one person eats it and is refreshed, and another person eats it and struggles. **Or in basic English: Life is simply what you make of it.

Really he didn't care what the top said but he found it mildly amusing so...

Heleus made his way onto the pedestal beside the other boy and started to study himself in the mirror just as the boy beside him had been doing. He combed his fingers through his hair and tilted his head to the side. "I take it you're going to Hogwarts", he assumed and the blond turned to him with a sneer on his face at his choice of clothing.

"Of course", he replied snidely. Then he smirked, "My family has been in Slytherin for generations. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

Heleus spared him a short glance, "Of course not, I am no Oracle. I suppose all houses have their benefits."

The Malfoy child curled his lip, "You can't possibly mean Hufflepuff too. I think I'd leave if I was sorted there".

"Every house's value has its own importance, even Hufflepuff. Loyalty is invaluable when given to the right people and every cause needs support. Gryffindor gives leaders, Ravenclaw scholars and Slytherin the means to achieve greatness. If all four houses worked cohesively..." Heleus trailed off with a faint smile on his lips.

"You've put a lot of thought into this", the other boy commented. He looked him up and down then came to a decision, thrusting his hand out to shake, "Draco Malfoy. Heir to the House of Malfoy".

Heleus shook his hand gratefully, "Harrison Potter. Heir Potter and Heir Black, its a pleasure to meet you".

Draco's hand tensed and his eyes flickered to his forehead where his scar was concealed beneath his messy fringe, "The pleasure is mine".

The door at the back of the shop opened suddenly and a short lady came through followed by a stumbling teen, both were dressed in dark blue uniforms and the teen was holding a roll of fabric close to her chest. "Florence, take care of the other boy". She looked up from behind her messy curls and nodded frantically, rushing over to Heleus and placing the fabric on the floor and smiling largely. "How may I help you?"

"I'll have 3 sets of all of the required Hogwarts Uniform in your best thread. What do you have in athletic wear?" The young lady had pulled out a piece of parchment and quill and was jotting down quickly.

"We have Quidditch gear, customizable for your team, dueling robes and training clothes". He took the training gear as well, opting out of the other two due to his dislike of the sport and the fact that he already had dueling robes stored in the bottom of his trunk at the Orphanage along with all of the other Wizarding clothing he'd bought over the years. He paid and left with a quick goodbye to the Malfoy Heir and finished up his supply shopping along with a few extra potions ingredients along the way.

He pulled out the metal disk and called for Dumbledore who smiled upon his arrival. "How was your day Harrison?"

"Splendid. And yours?"

The old Professor chuckled, "It was excellent. I went to peruse a Muggle store just off Charing Cross road with the most exciting knitting patterns. I've always wanted a brightly colored tea-cozy."

He returned to the orphanage that afternoon with a ticket and instructions to find Platform 9 and 3/4. Overall the day was a success. To him at least.

* * *

Heleus heard the knock on the compartment door and his eyes strayed from where he'd been staring out onto the train platform.

Hundreds of families were there, kissing and hugging their children with tears in their eyes. He could easily distinguish between who was who, clothes and general manner were easy enough to analyze and some families were impossible not to recognize. He'd seen the Malfoys not long before, prim and polished as ever. Narcissa has kissed Draco's cheek and whispered something into his ear but that was the only emotion she'd shown towards his departure.

He'd recognized Amelia Bones, current head of the DMLE, standing with her niece. He'd used newspapers to keep up with current affairs and found her methods of controlling crime throughout the UK to be quite _imaginative._ Yet as all politicians seemed to do, she would go the distance in some aspects and fall completely short of others. Bones would interrogate everyone in magical Britain to get to the truth but she would _never_ go outside the boundaries of the law. She couldn't bring down the hammer and that would be her downfall. Bones, like most of the public, had a clear cut view of what was right and wrong with no room for leeway. Sheep, the lot of them.

Two boys opened the door to his compartment and rushed in looking only slightly frazzled, hair sticking up on their faces and identical maniacal grins. "Did you see her face Gred?" "She looked mental-" "Storming" "Bloody ferocious!" "Pissed-off" "Like a dragon just took a dump on her head". They both turned to each other as a glint spread through their eyes, "Do you think Charlie would ask questions?" "Of course not". "So we just owl him and ask for dragon dung?" "Not so bluntly, ease him into the idea".

"Or you could just get some yourself?" Heleus murmured from his spot by the window.

Both pairs of eyes snapped towards him and one narrowed in suspicion whilst the other alighted with glee, "What do you know little boy?"

He wrinkled his nose in contempt, "What I know is common knowledge. There's a species of dragon called the Hebridean Black, their colony is off the northwest coast of Scotland. You could get there pretty easily". He smirked, "Of course it won't be so easy getting back with all of your body parts attached".

"I'm Gred" "I'm Forge"

"Weasley", Heleus surmised and the two grinned. "Was it really that obvious?" "I thought our hair had toned down a few shades" "Maybe its time to get the dye out again Gred" "Certainly Forge I haven't been to the hairdressers in yonks".

"Yes the hair definitely gave it away", he reassured. It did partially. But he couldn't very well tell them that they were the exact spitting image of their uncles. Who he'd assassinated. Gideon and Fabian Prewett had been loyal members of the Order of the Phoenix and fought to the very end. Unfortunately for them, they'd been far too late by the time they saw the arrows flying towards them.

"What's your name little kid" "We gave you ours".

"Harrison". They both gave him a pointed look as if gesturing to carry on but he said nothing in return.

"Look at him Gred", one of them beamed, "He's trying to be all secretive". "Doesn't help that he's practically a midget-" "a dwarf" "maybe even a chipmunk". "Oooh, I like chipmunk".

"Enough", he growled out.

They both leaned back with mock hurt written across their faces and swooned, "Oh my goodness!" "Did your hear that Forge?" "It's an **angry chipmunk**!" "Heavens no!"

Their expressions turned blank and serious, "We'll see you soon little Chipmunk" "If anyone comes asking-" "-tell them we went left" "-then right" "-then left again" "or you could just say you hadn't seen us".

"Whatever floats your boat", they chimed in unison.

Then they both backed out of the compartment slowly, not breaking eye contact until the door closed, before sprinting off to the left. Heleus stared after them with a shocked and confused expression on his face, genuinely wondering whether the two were on hallucinogens. He reached into his trunk and pulled out a large book about history in the last century which was becoming quite an interesting read although most of it was complete bullshit.

History was written by the victors after all.

The information on Lord Voldemort didn't extend back before the '60s and neither Tom Riddle nor Heleus Vasilikas were mentioned once in the whole book and all of their ideas had been manipulated and twisted within the pages, it was indeed a travesty. The writer, one Maximus Mason, had spent at least 200 pages detailing their crimes in disturbing detail and preaching how they were all mindless killers with a thirst for blood. As if their actions had no motives at all. The whole of the wizarding world was blind to the truth.

The door opened again and this time he almost stopped dead at the face of the person that entered.

Blaise Zabini.

He still remembered Zakariya, his grandfather, from school and they'd stayed in contact long after. He'd returned to Italy, his birthplace, and managed to manipulate his way into the government and the Wizengamot whilst the whole world still believed his faked neutrality throughout the wars. Zakariya had always been extremely intelligent and his natural wit and charm had garnered him favor from many politicians and people alike. He'd died at the age of 56 from an unknown disease and had been mourned by many.

His son was nothing like him at all.

Matteo Zabini was obsessed with his own appearance and was as vain as they came. He spent most of his time flaunting his wealth with lavish clothes and extravagant parties, never once thinking beyond the money within his vault. He met a beautiful Italian woman named Lavinia, they 'fell in love' and married within two months and she became his new obsession. He dressed her in the finest silks and signed all of his jewels and gold into her name. She'd fallen pregnant and he'd been absolutely ecstatic at the prospect of an heir.

Then she slit his throat and ran off with his unborn child.

She got away with it of course. She'd already killed 4 of her husbands by that point and went on to kill at least 5 more and even though everyone knew her to be guilty, solid evidence could never be found to convict her. The Black Widow had lived on and she'd named her son Zabini in mockery of her ex. He could only hope that this boy wouldn't let his friends family fall to ruin as it had once before.

"May I sit?" he asked politely and Heleus nodded his head in acceptance whilst he studied the person before him.

He was tall for his age and his skin was chocolate where Zakariya's had been mocha. He had the same dark brown hair but it was curly and his eyes like a navy blue rather than brown but the facial structure was all the same.

"Blaise Zabini", he said in a quiet yet confident voice and blue eyes were trained intently on him.

"Harrison Potter". Zabini made no noise or gesture of recognition towards the name but his eyes focused in on the book open in his lap.

"Mason is a biased idiot who has no clue about what he speaks. You would be better reading something else", he commented.

Heleus slipped the book back into his trunk and pulled out another thicker book written in Latin and passed it across to the other who opened it up and began to scan the pages. "Virgo Octavius. Most of his family have been historians and they've written accounts of many events throughout history in great detail. Unbiased, factual with a few written memoirs. This one encompasses Europe within the last 2 centuries but his most recent is about the revolutions in Ancient Egypt that led to the magical reform. Very fascinating reads if you can pass the language barrier".

The book was passed back to him quickly and he helped Blaise lift up his trunk and place it in the overhead racks. "Do you know anyone else at Hogwarts?" he questioned.

Zabini raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on the question, "No. I grew up in Italy but I chose to go to school in Britain. Our educational system didn't quite suit my needs".

Heleus understood completely. Magical schooling differed from country to country. Some countries (France, Britain, etc.) had one large school that catered to all young Wizards and witches. Others (Greece, Russia) would only accept the absolute finest into their school and the others were taught through homeschool or group study. Italy was one of the few countries that had many schools spread throughout all of the magical communities in the country that each caters to a small number of students. Amazing for more focused and personalized learning, not so good for those wanting to go into politics or making connections.

Influential families sent their children to somewhere like Beauxbatons or, as in both Blaise and Zakariya's cases, Hogwarts.

"I don't know many people either but I did have the _pleasure_ of meeting Draco Malfoy in Diagon Alley".

"First impressions?" Blaise leaned forward with interest written across his face.

"A spoilt brat but he'll grow out of it". His eyes gleamed viciously, "We might just have to hammer the message into him".

"Maybe you can. My shoes are Armani and I don't want his blood all over them", he mimed wiping his shoes clean of blood and Heleus chuckled despite himself. Zakariya's grandson might be even better than the man himself.

He pulled his wand out of his back pocket and casually flicked a silencing and locking spell at the door then pulled another much more questionable book out of his trunk and gave it to the young Italian, "Perhaps this might be to your liking". He started reading and his eyebrows raised at some of the graphic images shown within it.

He probably shouldn't be showing a class 2 Dark Arts book on a first meeting, especially when it could get him a minimum of 30 years of Azkaban. But he didn't care. The Zabini family had been sworn to secrecy many decades before and the boy would soon learn the consequences of he defied him.

Besides, his reactions were quite promising.

* * *

Mudblood. Sang-Sale. Magikó klépsimo.

He'd heard them be called many things in his life by a variety of different people. Most Purebloods hated them but he'd always been of the firm belief that every Magic user deserved a chance no matter their background. If they were willing to embrace the culture who were they not to welcome them with open arms? One thing he did despise above all were traitors. Those who took their culture and defiled it, insulted it and turned their backs to it in disgust. Those who believed _Muggles_ to be better than a civilization built upon generations of peace and linked to nature at its very core. Those people truly deserved the term Mudblood.

As he looked at the young girl in front of him he knew she'd come to deserve that title.

She was short with buck teeth and untamable frizzy hair, she held herself with a manner of superiority and spent the entire boat ride spewing facts and comparing Magic to Muggle culture. Heleus looked on with barely concealed disgust at her ramblings and couldn't help himself as he picked faults in her knowledge. It was like she'd memorized a whole textbook yet didn't understand or appreciate what she'd learned at all.

Even Blaise looked at her in some form of shock as she chatted on unaware of the issues amongst her fellow passengers.

Did this girl honestly think she was intelligent?

The most idiotic Pureblood child could disprove half of what she was spewing. She introduced herself as 'Hermione Granger' with beaming pride and seemed put-off when they just stared blankly at her. The boat's other occupant, Neville Longbottom, was a stuttering wreck. He remembered his parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom, who had both been Aurors. He'd discovered a while back that they'd been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange herself. They should be glad they were too insane to recognize this disgrace of a child who could barely speak a sentence and had not an ounce of confidence within his bones.

He pitied the House of Longbottom. Hundreds of years of Magic and culture, to waste. Pathetic.

When the boat stopped both he and Blaise were quick to get on dry land and escape the duo. They reached the middle of the pack of students heading towards the entrance hall and were greeted by Minerva McGonagall on the steps. She was dressed in green robes and looked just as stubborn as ever. The drone of hundreds of students could be heard beyond the stone wall but the first years were completely silent. "Welcome to Hogwarts", she greeted sternly. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly and you will be sorted into your houses. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. For the next seven years you will eat, sleep and learn amongst your fellow housemates. Each house has produced exceptional Witches and Wizards and I hope that each of you will become credits to your houses over the years to come. The sorting ceremony will begin shortly".

She left the chamber and the first years burst into noise.

"House?" Blaise murmured in askance.

"Whatever the hat deems appropriate".

"Slytherin?" he smirked.

"I wouldn't want to disappoint my _adoring fans_ ". Blaise snorted and said nothing.

They were led into the hall and hundreds of eyes were on the group instantly as they made their way to the front of the room. A stool and an old worn hat were produced and placed in the center and every student waited as it began to sing its annual song. When it was finished, McGonagall cleared her throat and pulled a long scroll from within her robes. "Abbott, Hannah". The first child, a short rosy-cheeked girl with Blond hair in pigtails, was easily sorted into Hufflepuff.

He watched as Granger went to Gryffindor along with Longbottom. He saw multiple Pureblood children who he recognized be sorted. Nott, Malfoy, Parkinson and various others were Death Eater names and there also some he knew from the Ministry.

Then his name was called. "Potter, Harry".

He started walking towards the stool, noticing Dumbledore smiling down at him he quirked his lips back. His eyes scanned the teachers' table for notable faces. Rubeus Hagrid, (expelled for opening the Chamber of Secrets), Filius Flitwick (multiple times world dueling champion), Severus Snape (Potions Master and _Death Eater_ ). Then he noticed another unfamiliar face and his steps almost faltered. He could sense the magic from where he was and he knew exactly who it belonged to. His fingers tingled and a shiver went up his spine that was nothing to do with fear. He fought the grin that threatened to appear and returned to his steps with a newfound passion.

Tom Riddle had come to Hogwarts.

He sat on the stool and the hat was lowered on his head.

 **"It's been a long time, Heleus"**

 _"Same to you, Hat"_

 **"You seem happy?"**

 _"You have no idea"._

He saw as the students leaned forward in their seats in anticipation for his sorting and murmurs spread across the hall.

 **"You have a great mind, child. I am almost certain any of the houses would suit you well".**

He frowned, _"Really?"_

The hat seemed to chuckle, **"Indeed. You have a thirst for knowledge and you have cunning and ambition in spades. You are loyal to few but those that you are you would do anything to protect them. You have traits from all houses and it would be best if you decided on the outcome of this sorting yourself".**

 _"Gryffindor"_ , he said almost immediately.

 **"Not Slytherin?"**

 _"They wouldn't trust me. They have to trust me so that I can rip them to shreds for their insolence"._

 **"Very well then".** "Gryffindor!"

Dumbledore beamed down at him and the house of red and gold burst into raucous applause. He passed Blaise and winked before he went to join their ranks and the Italian just stared.


End file.
